“That’s a little weird,” Oz admitted.
“And believe it or not, my clandestine visit wasn’t the strangest part of my day,” she added. But before she could elaborate, they all heard it.
“Helloooooooo? Ox? Garsea? Are you in there?”
“Let me guess,” David growled. “That’s the scary-prepared bitch on Mama Mac’s front porch. Yeah, that’s right! I said it.”
“What could she want?” Mama Mac asked. She’d begun packing up the first aid kit but stopped and then laid it all out again.
“To finish me off?” Annette asked.
“Is anyone else worried about the fact that instead of calling the cops, she came over? Anyone?” David demanded. “She didn’t call the cops on Sally, either. That’s not just being easygoing. That’s someone who doesn’t want to talk to the police under any circumstance.”
“Gal after my own heart,” Mama murmured.
“Helloooo? Can you hear me in there? Sorry you had to rush away from our lunch so fast, Ox. I hope everything’s okay!”
Annette snickered. “Ox?”
Unperturbed by the lack of response, Lila elaborated in a singsong tone, “I brought your leftovers…”
“Good God, don’t let her in. This is clearly a trap.”
“Christ, this is ridiculous,” David muttered. “We’re cowering in here like cubs in a thunderstorm. She’s one Stable. Dev could take her.”
“I also brought Garsea an order of the profiteroles …”
“Open the door,” Annette said at once.
“And have one of you misplaced a fox?” Lila called. “Because there’s a nice little fox out here.”
“Oh, fuck,” was all Oz had time for before Annette was on the move.
Chapter 14
Probably should’ve thought this through, Lila thought as Garsea charged. The woman’s eyes were red, for God’s sake. Not reddish-tinged. Not reddish-brown. Red-red. Movie monster–red. Making things worse, the small fox that had begged to be picked up suddenly wriggled, jumped down, and ran to meet the red-eyed wonder racing toward them.
“Stop!” She’d barely gotten the word out before she found herself sprinting forward, snatching up the fox, holding it tight to her chest, and backing away from Garsea, who had pulled up and was staring at Lila with an odd expression. Not rage. Not surprise. Bemusedly thwarted?
“You can be pissed at me,” Lila warned, still backing away with the fox, “but don’t take it out on the cub. Also, you’ve got no right to be pissed at me. Pretty sure I’m pissed at you.”
“That’s not…uh…that’s not why I’m…” Garsea spread her hands helplessly as several other people tumbled out of the house around her. “I think we should all take a step back. And you should stop stepping back, you’re almost in the street. I won’t hurt you. Most likely.”
“Jeez,” Lila said, eyeing the porch behind them. “You didn’t even open the door.” It was true; the poor battered door was hanging by one hinge. Barely. “Time to call Harriss & Son again.”
“Well, hiya.” This from Ox, who looked delighted to see her, which couldn’t be real. “You said something about leftovers?”
* * *
“How’s the hand?”
“Fine,” Garsea answered at once, then promptly hid her hand under the table, then caught herself and deliberately picked up her tea cup with her bandaged hand. “No complaints.”
“None?” Lila teased. “At all?”
“I can’t think of a single thing to complain about.” Annette glanced at the ceiling, giving the impression of a woman deep in thought. “Nnnnnn…not one.”
“Glad to hear it.” Lila sipped her tea. It was something Mama Mac called Buddha’s Blend, and it tasted like flowers and springtime. Especially once you added three sugars. “That is excellent news.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Lila asked. There was a soft rattle as Mama Mac set the plate of cookies down a bit too hard.
Annette coughed. “Looking for?”
“When you broke into my house.”
“Um…”
“Happened about an hour ago? You left a trail of blood from my house to this one?”
“I did not,” she snapped. “I was very careful not to drip.”
Lila smirked into her teacup.
“Hey, Lila can settle this!” Ox said, turning to her with an improbably wide grin. “Is it breaking and entering if you have the spare keys?”
“Yes,” Lila said without hesitation.
Ox deflated a little. “It is?”
“It’s not about the key. It’s about your right to be on the property. It’s a misdemeanor, but if you entered with the intent to steal, then it’s a felony.” She looked around at the group. “You guys work for IPA—which I’m assuming is some kind of branch of child protection—and you don’t know this?”
Or maybe they did know and were testing to see what she knew.
“You fix stuffed animals, yet you know precisely what is and is not a misdemeanor and what is and is not a felony in the state of Minnesota?”
“Whoa,” Garsea’s boyfriend said. He’d taken the seat furthest away from Lila and had spent the awkward chat glaring at Garsea, then Lila, then back at Garsea. He was as tall as Ox, but while Ox was all long legs and lean lines, Garsea’s boyfriend was a big guy with a blocky, muscular build, a shock of shaggy brown hair, and loads of dark stubble blooming along his jaw. He was wearing—hand to God!—a brown trench coat and took his coffee with a quarter cup of maple syrup. Or at least that’s what it looked like when he was slopping it in. When he spoke, his voice was a gruff baritone straight out of Central Casting for Grizzled P.I. “Nobody’s talking about felonies or jail.”
“Well,” Lila said, then munched another chocolate oatmeal cookie
(not defiled with raisins, excellent)
swallowed, sipped her milk. The silence got thicker and more awkward as they waited for her to finish chewing. “I’m talking about jail. Or are we sticking with the ridiculous fiction that this is all hypothetical?”
“Um…the last one?” Ox asked.
She almost smiled but caught herself. That’s how it is? No problem.
