“Company?” Suzie spread her arms wide. “Well, what am I, chopped liver?”

“She is in a state,” Vinnie said, rolling her eyes.

Robin grinned. “Suzie and Vinnie, this is my mother, Shiva Quinn.”

“Oh, hell, sorry,” Suzie said, slapping her forehead. “I’m feeling a little frisky tonight.” She reached out to give Shiva’s hand a rousing shake. “Vinnie’s right; I’m a toad. But it’s great to meet you. Robin’s world-class.”

“Thank you,” Shiva said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “It’s lovely to meet you, too.”

Vinnie nodded her head respectfully. “I am Vinamra Patel, and I am so pleased to meet you. We love your daughter very much.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Shiva said. “You’re Indian.”

“Yes, madam.”

Shiva touched her chest with both hands. “I live in Varanasi.”

Vinnie smiled as she nodded again. “Yes, Robin has told us all about you and your beautiful home overlooking the Ghats.”

Shiva blinked, then whipped around to find Robin. “You never told me you had Indian friends.”

“I’m sure I mentioned Vinnie and Suzie.”

“But I thought Vinnie was a… Never mind. Really, Robin, you should’ve told me.” She turned back and smiled. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Vinamra.”

Vinnie’s laugh was melodic. “Please call me Vinnie. I’m so looking forward to hearing about your wonderful life in my homeland.”

“I would love to share some of my memories with you.”

I poured two more margaritas and passed all the glasses across the bar. “Here you go.”

“Awesome,” Suzie said, and took care of passing the other drink to Vinnie, who sat at the dining table with Pookie on her lap. Shiva sat next to her and they chatted quietly. I grabbed my own drink and walked around the bar to join the group in the dining area.

“Cheers and welcome,” I said, and we all clinked glasses and sipped. I looked at Suzie. “So, why are you feeling so frisky?”

“Oh, dude, wait’ll you hear.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Vinnie.

“Wait. Do I really want to know?”

“Yes.” Vinnie laughed again. “Suzie and I have taken the grand prize in the Stanislaus County wood arts festival.”

“Hey, that’s fantastic,” Robin said, and toasted them with her glass.

“Wow, congratulations.” I set my drink on the dining room table and gave first Suzie, then Vinnie a big hug. “That’s wonderful. Was this for the flying pyramid?”

“Yes.”

“Told you that piece was a winner,” Suzie gloated with glee.

“Congratulations,” Shiva said politely.

Vinnie smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“What is it you do?” Shiva asked a moment later.

Robin grinned. “Chain-saw sculptures, Mom.”

“Oh, my.”

As I moved back into the kitchen to grab the bowls I’d piled high with chips, salsa, and Suzie’s guacamole, I described the sculpture to Robin and Shiva: a massive wooden pyramid with wings, eight feet tall and nearly as wide, carved from one piece of wood.

“The detail in the wood is astounding,” I said. “You can see each individual minute feather that makes up the wings.”

“Sounds awesome,” Robin said.

I continued to describe the base of the pyramid, where animals, humans, saints, and angels gamboled among the trees and flowers growing up the sides of the pyramid. The apex was crowded with iconic symbols and figures. It should’ve been a train wreck, but instead it was glorious.

I was pleased that they’d taken their inspiration from photographs I’d brought back from Rosslyn Chapel outside of Edinburgh. The chapel walls and wide stone columns were famous for their intricate carvings depicting the lives of saints and sinners, musical instruments, stars, and flowers. I’d visited Rosslyn a few months back with my parents and Robin while attending the Edinburgh Book Fair.

“I had a miraculous experience in Rosslyn Chapel,” Shiva said, and began to relate what happened when she was confronted by the ghost of William Wallace.

“Mom, did I mention they sculpt with chain saws?” Robin said quietly.

Shiva blinked, then blushed. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” She laughed. “Robin has informed me that I have a tendency to bring the spotlight around to myself, so I do humbly apologize. Please go on with your little story, Suzie.”

“But I would very much enjoy hearing what William Wallace said to you,” Vinnie asked politely.

“It was nothing,” Shiva said with a wave of her hand. “Tell me all about these chain saws you use. They look so powerful and deadly. Aren’t they dangerous?”

“Yeah,” Suzie said, enjoying Shiva’s reaction. “They could cut your arm off.”

“Good heavens,” Shiva said, and shivered in horror. “And where did you find a piece of wood big enough?”

Suzie smiled with pride. “We’ve got a forest ranger pal up in Klamath who calls when she finds a good fallen tree.”

“We do not believe in using living trees,” Vinnie elaborated. “This way, we imbue the dead trees with new energy to share with the world.”

“That’s lovely,” Shiva said. “How do you-”

The doorbell rang loudly.

Shiva flinched. “What in the world?”

“Sorry,” I said, touching her arm. “That’ll be my neighbors Jeremy and Sergio. I told them to drop by if they got home early enough.”

“Oh, I’ll get the door,” Robin muttered, set her drink on the bar, and disappeared down the hall. A moment later she led them into the room and quickly introduced them both to her mother.

Jeremy took Shiva’s hand in his. “I certainly see the resemblance, but I can hardly believe you’re Robin’s mother. You are both absolutely beautiful.”

Robin caught my glance and rolled her eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. Jeremy was gushing, yes. But I could see that he meant it. And why not? It was true.

Shiva wove her arm through Jeremy’s and led him over to the window, where he could tell her in more precise detail how beautiful she was. Robin met my gaze again and we both laughed.

Sergio held out a sturdy white shopping bag. “Tonight’s dessert.”

“From your restaurant?” I said, my eyes growing bigger.

“From my home kitchen,” he said, grinning.

“Even better.” I took a quick peek into the bag. “You made flan?”

“It’s actually a thick custard, but we’re calling it flan tonight.” He waved his hand deprecatingly. “It seemed the most appropriate accompaniment to tacos.”

“You rock,” Suzie said, punching his arm.

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “Oh, sorry. Let me get you a margarita.”

“The perfect payment,” he said. “There’s whipping cream in the bag, too.”

“I think I love you.” Moving into the kitchen, I put Sergio’s bag in the fridge and pulled out the various bowls and containers of taco makings. Vinnie took charge of the margarita pitcher and filled everyone’s glasses.

“Brooklyn, you’re rubbing your neck,” Vinnie said. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no,” I insisted, and rolled my shoulders selfconsciously. “I took a long, um, walk today and must’ve tweaked something.”

“Something got tweaked,” Robin muttered, then snorted.

“Now, you’ll all be coming to the street fair tomorrow, won’t you?” Jeremy cried as he and Shiva joined us. “I go on at one o’clock, and my performance is going to wow the crowd.”

“We will be there,” Vinnie said, and turned to top off Shiva’s glass. “Are you going, Shiva?”

Вы читаете Murder Under Cover
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