A Family Affair Read online

  A Family Affair

  A Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery

  Shannon VanBergen

  Fairfield Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 Fairfield Publishing

  * * *

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  * * *

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  A special thank you to my sister Wendi Dunham

  for bringing Les to life with her poems. She’s not just my sister, she’s also one of my closest friends.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Thank You!

  1

  I crouched in the dark alley, my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. Even though I couldn’t see the Grannies, I could hear their breath behind me. I looked ahead and could only make out shadows. If it weren’t for the moon, I wouldn’t even be able to see that much.

  I took a deep breath, waiting for the signal. Suddenly, I heard it. “Go! Go! Go!” Grandma Dean yelled.

  I took off running, at first trying to stay in the shadows, but after several yards, I gave up and just sprinted. I could see the chain-link fence in front of me and knew what I had to do. I stuck the toe of my boot in one of the gaps once I reached it and reached up to grab onto the fence, pulling and pushing my body as hard as I could. I stuck my foot in another gap two feet up and pulled myself further up. Just as I thought I would end up safely over the fence, my foot slipped. I tried frantically to get my footing as I dangled from the fence.

  “Stop! Enough is enough already.” I heard Grandma’s disappointed voice and suddenly, the area lit up with her flashlight.

  “That was pathetic,” she said once I let go and fell to the ground.

  “It’s a lot harder than it looks,” I shouted back, shielding my eyes.

  She aimed the flashlight at the ground instead of directly at me, and I looked up and saw all five Grannies staring at me with the same look. Disgust.

  Grandma nodded at Hattie. “Show her how it’s done.”

  We made our way back down the alley to our starting point. Hattie crouched down and all her joints popped and cracked. I couldn’t help but think she sounded like a bowl of Rice Krispies when you first add the milk. Suddenly, I was hungry.

  “Pay attention,” Grandma Dean said to me. She opened the stopwatch feature on her phone and her finger hovered over the start button. “Go!” she yelled.

  Hattie took off down the alley. Her black, velour tracksuit blended into the shadows and I could barely see her. She was like a puma after her prey. She made it to the fence and scaled it within seconds. She dropped to the other side and threw her hands in the air. Grandma Dean clicked “stop” on her phone.

  “Ten seconds!” Grandma shouted to her. Even in the darkness I could see Hattie doing a little victory dance.

  I sighed. “If Hattie can do this so well, then why do I have to do it too?”

  Irene scoffed. “Because one day, Hattie might not be able to, or she might not be on a mission with us and we might need someone else who can do it.”

  “Dear,” Greta said, putting her hand on my shoulder, “you’re over forty years younger than her. This really shouldn’t be that hard for you.”

  I sighed again. Hattie really put me to shame.

  “Try again,” Virginia encouraged. “I bet you’ll be able to do it this time.”

  Grandma pushed the other Grannies aside and stood next to me, her finger hovering over the start button again. “Come on, let’s do this again. This time, act like your life depends on it. Because one day, it might.”

  She pressed my shoulders, pushing me back down to a crouching position. I looked ahead and could see Hattie bouncing around like a boxer on the other side of the fence. I took a deep breath. If a woman in her seventies could scale a fence, so could I.

  I narrowed my eyes at the fence, and my mind filled with determination. “Go!” Grandma shouted.

  I sprinted down the alley, not even trying to stay in the shadows this time. My main purpose was to get over the fence. That’s all I cared about. I made it to the fence and hoisted myself up. To my surprise, I easily made it to the top this time. I swung a leg over, ready to make a quick descent. Unfortunately, when I turned my body and tried to swing the other leg over, nothing happened. I pulled again, my arms shaking as I held up my body weight.

  “Don’t stop!” the Grannies shouted. “Go! Go! Go!”

  I struggled to move from my straddled position atop the fence, but I couldn’t move.

  “I’m stuck,” I finally yelled.

  I heard a collective sigh.

  The Grannies made their way down the alley. “What do you mean you’re stuck?” Grandma called out.

  “I mean I’m stuck!” I frantically yelled back. “My pants are caught on something.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Irene said, shaking her head.

  “No! Hurry! I don’t know how long I can hold myself up here!”

  The Grannies stood at the bottom of the fence staring up at me. Hattie decided to climb up and help me.

  She made it to the top and looked under me. “Your crotch is stuck on a piece of metal,” she said calmly. “Want me to try to rip it free?”

  That sounded very unpleasant. But so was straddling a fence ten feet in the air.

  “Just help me!” I finally shouted.

  Hattie put her hands in all sorts of uncomfortable places trying to free me from the fence. “I can’t get it,” she said, climbing back down. “You’re really stuck.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?” I cried. “I can’t just stay up here.”

  Grandma lifted her phone and started to tap it. “What are you doing?” I yelled. “Who are you calling?”

  “I’m calling 911. They’ll have to send someone to free you.”

  “No!” I cried.

  But it was too late. Grandma had the 911 operator on speaker.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  “Good evening,” Grandma said calmly. “A woman has found herself stuck on top of a fence in the alley behind the old sewing building downtown.”

  There was silence for a moment. “She’s stuck…on a fence?”

  “Yes,” Grandma answered. “She’s perched up there and in need of rescuing, I’m afraid.”

  I pulled my body to the left and right, trying to free myself. At one point, I pulled so violently I was afraid if I did free myself, I would accidentally throw myself to my death…but then I thought maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  “Help is on the way,” Grandma called over her phone.

  The other Grannies pushed their purse-straps over their arms and pulled out their keys.

  “Where are you goi
ng?” I shouted.

  “No offense, but this is pretty embarrassing,” Irene said, glaring at me. “I don’t want to be here when the cops show up. I know most of them and I don’t want them to know I was involved in this mess.”

  I looked at Grandma, panic taking over my mind. “You’re not leaving me too, are you?”

  She looked at me for a minute, thinking it over. She sighed. “No, I’ll stay. You’ll need a ride home anyway.”

  A minute later, I heard sirens and saw red lights flickering down the alley. My heart sank. It was a fire truck. Please don’t be Joe, I prayed. The other Grannies made a run for it, and Grandma folded her arms and huffed.

  Within minutes, not only was Joe standing at the bottom of the fence with Grandma Dean but so was Detective Owen.

  Joe put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “So, how did this happen?”

  “She was scaling the fence and got stuck.” Grandma Dean said it so matter-of-factly, like this was a usual Thursday night occurrence.

  Joe and Owen looked at each other. “You wanna go up?” Owen asked him.

  Joe and I were dating, and Owen, who I once thought was interested in me, seemed to treat me like his little sister.

  Joe chuckled. “I’ll do it.”

  He climbed the fence and took a look. I sat there, arms shaking and extremely embarrassed. “Would you hurry it up,” I shouted over my shoulder.

  He shined his flashlight at my nether regions and laughed. “You’re really caught!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know! Now please hurry!”

  “Do you have a knife?” Joe shouted down to Owen.

  “What’s a knife for?” I cried out.

  “I have to cut you out. Unless you want to stay up here.”

  I sighed.

  Owen handed up a knife. I kept still and held my breath while Joe tugged on my pants.

  “Got it,” he yelled. “You’re free!”

  My arms were so weak, I collapsed on top of the fence and slid down into Detective Owen’s arms.

  2

  I brushed my hair and stood back to look at it. Yikes. The Florida humidity was not kind to my hair. I pulled it back into a high ponytail and watched as, one by one, tiny curls freed themselves from the elastic band and celebrated by standing as tall as they could. I tried to slick it back but now, instead of the hairs sticking up, they just stuck out to the sides. Somehow, I had made it look worse. I pulled out the band and stared at the mess that engulfed my head. You’d think that at nearly thirty years old, I would’ve figured out how to tame this mess. Then again, you’d think that about a lot of things in my life.

  I sighed. My hair, my life…it was all a mess. I had come to Florida to stay with Grandma Dean so I could figure out my life. I left behind my parents and a married sister with kids. And Bo. I left behind Bo. My heart ached when I thought of him. He was a kind man…and sexy. Oh my goodness, was he sexy. Blue eyes, calloused hands, and a permanent farmer’s tan. He had worked on a farm most of his life and had the biceps to prove it. I was pretty sure the man could lift a cow if he had to.

  I walked to my nightstand and pulled out a picture of him. Then I reached back in and pulled out the ring he’d given me—an engagement ring. It was beautiful. It sparkled in the light and when I moved it this way and that, it flashed red and gold and green. Out of all my previous marriages, six in fact, this was my first real engagement ring. The others had been something silly—a bread twist-tie, a plastic ring in the shape of a cat from the top of a cupcake—but this, this was real. And it scared me to death.

  It had been my mother who suggested I leave our Illinois farm and move to Florida with Grandma Dean. She thought I needed time to think things through, not just jump in head first like I usually did. They loved Bo, and I found out a few weeks ago that they had him over every week for Sunday dinner.

  I looked in the mirror, still clutching the ring and picture. What was I doing? I had an amazing fiancé at home and yet here I was, going on dates with Joe the fireman. I came here for clarity, but I felt more mixed up than ever. What was my problem with men? Why did I have this need to constantly be with one, yet at the same time, I couldn’t take a relationship seriously? They wanted to go on a date with me? The answer was yes. They wanted to marry me? The answer was yes. Where was my voice in all this?

  But deep down, I knew. I knew where it all started—the very day it started, even. And when the memory tried to surface, tried to coax me into remembering, I stuffed it back down. I put the picture back in my nightstand and slipped off the ring. I knew it was wrong to not deal with the memories. And deep down, I knew it was wrong to date Joe. But the truth was, I didn’t know how to change. Or rather, I didn’t know how to change without dealing with my past. So for now, I would just move forward. And forward meant coffee.

  “Grandma, I’m headed to the coffeeshop. Do you want anything?”

  Her voice hollered back from her room where she stood, getting ready. “I’ll have a black, no sugar! And don’t call me Grandma! It makes me sound old!”

  “You are old,” I laughed under my breath, but she couldn’t hear me with the hair dryer going. I knew in thirty minutes, she would walk out of her room in a super cute outfit that a twenty-something would wear, her white bobbed hair looking perfect with not a hair out of place, and her red heels clicking on the floor. Me, on the other hand, looked like a dude from a White Snake video. I really needed to do something about my hair…

  I started Grandma Dean’s car and immediately missed my old beat-up truck I had left behind in Illinois. Why was I so sentimental today? Everything made me think of home.

  The drive to the coffeeshop was a quick one, then again, it only took minutes to get anywhere in this town. When I pulled up, I scanned the parking lot for Les’s white car. He had become my closest friend here, actually my only friend. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I had gone out to lunch a few times with the girl that worked in Grandma Dean’s antique shop. She was a sweet girl, but I always seemed to gravitate toward male friends. And Les was the only male friend I’ve had that I didn’t also date. That was progress, right?

  Les wasn’t at the coffeeshop, but Detective Owen was. For a minute, I thought about turning around and picking up coffee at the super trendy Palm Coffee Shop on the other side of town. But just as I was about to make a run for it, he saw me.

  “So, find yourself stuck on any more fences lately?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  “The guys and I got a good laugh about that. We come across some pretty weird stuff, but we’ve never had to cut a person from a fence before.”

  “Technically, Joe is the one who cut me free,” I corrected him.

  He laughed. “Well, it was my knife.”

  Before I could say anymore, his phone rang. His jovial expression quickly vanished, and his brows creased with concern. “Where did you find it?” he asked the person on the line. “Any witnesses?”

  Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good.

  “And you’re sure the tattoo is the same?” Owen rubbed his forehead like his head was suddenly throbbing. He asked another question or two, listening intently to the answer. “I’ll be right over.”

  “I have to run,” he said to me, sliding his phone in his back pocket.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  He shot me a look that I knew meant he wanted me to stay out of it. Well, not so much me but Grandma Dean and her card club—AKA the crime-fighting vigilantes secretly known as the Glock Grannies. “That phone call didn’t happen,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Got it?”

  He disappeared out the door, and I stood there wondering what that was all about. I finally ordered my latte and Grandma’s coffee and drove home, thinking about Owen’s phone call. The way he talked I knew it had to be a body. I didn’t know a lot of people in town yet, but I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the body belonged to someone I knew or had met before.

  “I’m back,”
I yelled when I walked in the door. “Are you about ready? We’re supposed to be at the shop in fifteen minutes.”

  The shop was our clothing store that Grandma Dean and I had recently opened together. Half the store was designer women’s clothing and the other half was designer cat clothing—a good combination in a town full of retired women and their cats. We named it Hello Beautiful, and that’s what we called out every time someone walked in the door. It was fun having this project with Grandma Dean, but if we didn’t hurry, we were going to be late opening the store that morning.

  Just as I predicted, Grandma Dean walked into the kitchen looking like she had just walked out of a magazine. She used to be a dancer and actor in Europe and still carried herself like the European celebrity she once was.

  “Good grief, Nikki! Please tell me you didn’t go out in public like that!” She touched my hair then recoiled like she had accidentally stuck her hand in something sticky, which she technically did because it was still loaded with gel from my earlier attempts at taming it. “Come with me. We have to fix that before we leave.”

  I tried to protest, but it was no use. I was being dragged back to her bathroom and forced to sit on a little stool with a silky pink cushion. She stood back and looked at me. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Oh no, please no.

  “Kitty Purry! Kitty Purry, come here!” One of her two cats bounced into the room and jumped up on the bathroom counter. She was wearing a t-shirt that said “Boss Cat” in hot pink, sparkly letters, and she had matching bows on each ear. The cat was a diva and she knew it. I preferred Grandma Dean’s other cat, Catalie Portman. She was quiet and didn’t demand the attention that Kitty Purry did. She also didn’t wear clothes, which Grandma frequently joked was scandalous.