I leaned over the bed and checked the monitor.
“Wait, no! Let me try again. I can totally do this. I was this close, ” I protested, holding my thumb and index finger up.
But it was too late. A red line of text slashed across the screen, informing me that BigBoy78 had logged off of the system.
Shit, shit, shit! I grabbed my cell and quickly dialed Felix’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Please tell me you got him?”
Felix chuckled. “Your head all right, love?”
“Fine.” I rubbed at my forehead again, where I could feel an imprint of the carpet. “Did you get the trace or not?”
“Yeah, we got him.”
I did a sigh of relief. “Thank God. What took you so long?”
“I actually had him five minutes ago.”
I narrowed my eyes at the phone. “Then why didn’t you
He chuckled again. “I was enjoying the show.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to love me after I give you his location.”
“This had better be good, ” I mumbled under my breath. I grabbed a pen from my purse and wrote the address Felix read off onto the back of my hand. It was a Hollywood zip code, though the street wasn’t familiar. Felix pulled up MapQuest.com while I waited; then he gave me directions from the 101.
Which would have been very helpful, I realized as I hung up, if I’d had a car.
Damn.
Jasmine opened the door to the bedroom. “You done in here? ’Cause we got another customer logging on.”
I grabbed my purse and bolted for the door. No way did I want a repeat of that performance. “It’s all yours.”
Jasmine ushered Anna back into her pink room and shut the door behind her. “You get what you need?” she asked, turning to me.
“Yeah. The only problem is, now I need a car.” I paused, doing my best puppy-dog eyes at her.
She planted both hands on her bony hips. “Well, don’t look at me.”
“Please, Jasmine, ” I pleaded. “I can make it worth your while.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How worth my while?”
“Three months of ads in the
She shook her head. “No way. Back-cover ad. In color. And I drive. Nobody drives my baby but me.”
I bit my lip, hoping Felix really was loaded. “Deal.”
“Okay, where are we going?”
“Hollywood. But…” I paused, remembering the armed officer waiting outside for me. I had a feeling I’d been lucky to talk Officer Mustache into taking me here. A detour into Hollywood to confront a possible killer with a toe fetish was probably out of the question. Besides, I was pretty sure this was one of those “harebrained” things Ramirez had been talking about, and when Officer Mustache reported back, I was likely to be put under some sort of house arrest.
What I needed was a distraction.
I pulled my cell back out and hit number two on my speed dial. Mom picked up on the first ring.
“Maddie? Are you okay? Oh lord, what’s happened this time?”
I rolled my eyes. Geez, give me a little credit, huh? “Nothing, Mom. I’m fine. I was just wondering what you were doing right now.”
“Mrs. Rosenblatt and I are at Molly’s. We’re helping her send out thank-you notes. Why do you ask?”
“Are all the kids there, too? And Connor?”
“Yes.”
Perfect! I almost felt sorry for Officer Mustache.
“Why, Maddie? What’s going on?”
“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a little favor. Could you pack all the kids into the car, Molly and Mrs. R, too, and drive them to my friend’s house?” I recited Jasmine’s address.
I could sense Mom frowning through the phone. “What do you want us to do when we get there?”
“Oh nothing. Just be yourselves.”
Chapter 15
Fifteen minutes later a gold minivan pulled up in front of Jasmine’s house, and I watched from the window as the occupants burst out. Mom was first (in peg-legged white pants, an oversize Day-Glo green T-shirt tied at her hip in a large knot, and penny loafers with no socks), then Molly (waddling due to her ever-growing belly encased in a huge maternity dress that looked like a tent with eyelets), all four of my cousin’s kids (in various states of sticky-mouth, sucking on leftover pinata candy as two of them wielded some sort of Nerf noodles and popped the unarmed one on the head), the Terror (blowing big, fat spit bubbles that dribbled down his chin onto his Baby Gap sweatshirt as he wailed), and, last but not least, Mrs. Rosenblatt (in a bright orange-and-red muumuu and Birkenstocks). Oh, yeah. And Pablo.
“Squawk. Don’tcha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Squawk. Yeah, don’tcha?”
“What the hell is that thing?” Jasmine asked beside me, gesturing to the cage dangling from Mrs. Rosenblatt’s chubby hand.
“That is the best distraction ever.”
I peeked between the curtains as Molly’s kids ran circles around the lawn, Molly waddling after them and yelling at the munchkins to stop hitting their siblings. Connor wailed as he got whacked in the side of the head by a noodle. Mom picked up Connor, who promptly tried to wiggle out of her grip, doing the patented toddler back arch. Mrs. Rosenblatt told Pablo to stop singing or he was going back to the salon in a teeny-tiny body bag. Molly’s eldest found a pile of doggie doo on the lawn and starting singing about doggies that made “hunks of stinky chunks.” And above it all, Pablo screeched, “A freak like me!”
Officer Mustache didn’t know where to look, his gaze ping-ponging between the players straight out of a madcap British comedy.
Some days I loved my family.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed Jasmine by the sleeve, and we slipped out the side door, making a beeline for the garage. Jasmine unlocked a tiny yellow Miata and hopped behind the wheel. No wonder she existed on a diet of vitamin water and Tic Tacs. Any bigger and there was no way she would have fit in her toy car. I dove into the passenger seat and ducked down, crossing my fingers as she pulled out of the garage, backed into the street, and punched it down the road. I waited for the sound of sirens to follow us. I held my breath, counting to four-Mississippi before I peeked my head up.
“Coast clear?”
“Yep.” Jasmine nodded, her eyes shining. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was enjoying this.
I pulled out my cell and dialed Mom’s number, telling her thanks for the rescue and that I owed her one-the “one” being dinner at her house next week with her, Faux Dad, and my Irish Catholic grandmother. But considering I’d just asked her to help me escape police custody, I figured it was a fair request. (Besides, my steady diet of Chinese takeout and Hamburger Helper was, I admit, getting a little old.)
We sped down the 101 into Hollywood, making a left on Cahuenga until we reached the address Felix had given me. Jasmine killed the engine in front of a large, split-level ranch with a yard full of garden gnomes. The windows were covered in chintz curtains, and the front door was adorned with a big heart-shaped wreath made of pink silk roses. Didn’t exactly scream
“You sure this is the right place?” Jasmine asked.
