Meerkats and Murder by Leslie Langtry

Author:Leslie Langtry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, suspense, humor, womens fiction, chick lit, dark humor
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Mrs. Wrath?" Betty's voice was in my ear.

I leaped out of bed before realizing it was just a kid, not a murderous Russian spy in my room.

"What is it?" I asked.

Betty didn't seem offended in the least. This kid was getting a bit too comfortable in my house.

"I had an idea." She climbed up onto the bed.

I looked over to see that not only was Rex gone, but it was almost ten in the morning.

"My grandparents are Russian."

My eyes narrowed. Of course the girl said that. She wanted to stay involved in the investigation.

"I sincerely doubt it," I said as I slid into my slippers.

That's when Betty launched into a string of Russian swearing that made my jaw drop. She ranted for at least two whole minutes, saying some very creative things I could do with a penguin and many, many things that, while impressive, were alarming. When she stopped, she smiled.

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, more impressed than horrified. I tried to paste a responsible leader face on, but it was just too amazing.

"Grandpa pretty much only speaks in swear words," the girl said. "He's not allowed to speak at all at Thanksgiving dinner…or Christmas, New Year's, Easter, or the Fourth of July. He gets really cussy on the fourth."

Wouldn't it be awesome if Betty's grandpa turned out to be Oleg Tartikov? I crossed my fingers behind my back and asked his name.

Betty frowned as she thought. "Aleksander Ritger. Why?"

"No reason." I got up and put a robe on. "Just curious."

The girl's eyes went wide. "You thought he was involved!"

I shook my head. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did! That would be amazeballs!"

Not really, because I'd have to have him taken in. But maybe with the moratorium his family gave him on speaking in public, it would be a good thing.

"Tell you what," I said. "Let's get dressed and meet up downstairs, and you can tell me what your idea was."

She was out of the room like a rocket. I wondered if I was going to regret that.

"Grandpa," Betty said ten minutes later as she dove into my stash of chocolate Pop Tarts, "does stuff with other Russians, like, all the time. It's a club, I think. He might know about Oleg." She pronounced the name perfectly, which was unusual. It wasn't Oh-leg. It was Ol-yeg. Most Americans never pronounced it correctly.

"How did you know about him?" I'd only mentioned Joe Hanson in her presence.

She rolled her eyes. "You talk in your sleep. Did you know that?" She cocked her head to one side. "Did that hurt your job as a spy?"

"I don't talk in my sleep!" I grumped, eating a piece of dry toast because someone was eating all my Pop Tarts.

"You also asked Mister Squid to stop squirting ink on the driveway," she said. "And that Rex is a hottie, and that I'm your favoritest Girl Scout ever.

"I was thinking," Betty said without missing a beat, "that we could talk to Grandpa. Maybe he'd take

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