Road Trip (Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery Book 6) Read online

  Road Trip

  A Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery

  Shannon VanBergen

  Copyright © 2020 Shannon VanBergen

  All Rights Reserved

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

  This is a work of fiction. All people, places, names, and events are products of the author’s imagination and / or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Tina Adams

  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

  Thank You!

  1

  “Hattie!” I pleaded. “Please don’t do it!”

  I felt a breeze blow through my hair. Somewhere below us, birds were chirping, completely unaware or uncaring of what was about to happen. “Hattie,” I said firmly, using the voice my mother would use to scold me when I was a little girl. “This is ridiculous. You’re not thinking this through. Please step away from the ledge, and we can talk about this.”

  Hattie turned and looked at me, a hint of mischievousness in her eyes. She smiled, and for a brief second I thought maybe she would listen to me. But then she turned and took a step forward. She was gone.

  I wanted to reach out and grab her, but it was too late. A cackle filled the air below and echoed through the trees. My stomach twisted in knots as I heard her voice getting further and further away.

  “Ma’am?” A man’s voice brought my attention back to the ledge. “Are you ready?”

  I looked at him, fear rising up in my stomach. No, I was not ready.

  My fear was obvious, and he laughed. “Look, if those old ladies can do this, so can you. There’s no way I’m letting you get out of this. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  He clearly didn’t know me.

  I looked at the name tag that was pinned onto his bright green Sky Extreme Zip Lines T-shirt.

  “Look, Shane, this is all a mistake. I was just up here to make sure the grannies made it up safely. Now that they’re all okay and safely on the ground, I’ll just climb back down the way I came up and be on my way.”

  He blocked me from the steps, which honestly looked even scarier than the zip line.

  “You can’t do that,” he said, smiling. “There’s only one way up and one way down. Besides, you’re already strapped in the harness.”

  His walkie-talkie went off, and a muffled voice came from his hip, where he had it secured to his belt. “Is there a problem up there?”

  Shane picked up his walkie-talkie and spoke. “No problem here. Just checking the harness, and then I’ll send her down.”

  “Good,” the voice said. “The next one I’m sending up is celebrating her tenth birthday, so maybe sing to her or something. You know, make it special.”

  Shane looked at me while he clipped his walkie-talkie back to his belt. “Ten years old. Did you hear that?”

  I sighed. “Yes, I heard it. Just make sure this thing is on tight.” I tugged at my harness to see if it felt snug.

  Shane looked it over. “You’re all set! Are you ready?”

  I took a deep breath and stood on the edge. I wasn’t even close to being ready, but the grannies would never let me live it down if I didn’t do this. And even though I thought I could live with that, for some reason, I didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of Shane.

  I held onto the rope that hung in front of my face, the only thing that would keep me from plunging to my death, said a quick prayer, and stepped off.

  As soon as I was dangling in the air, my fear was replaced with adrenaline. I zipped through the trees, laughing and screaming. The view was amazing. Everything was so green in Missouri. I took in a breath as the air whooshed past my face. The woodsy smell made me smile and feel calm, even that high up and flying through the air at forty miles per hour (a fun fact that Shane had shared before the grannies made their jump). All too soon, the platform came into view, and my ride was nearly over. As I planted my feet on the wooden decking, the grannies cheered. I had done it and lived to tell the tale.

  Back in Virginia’s SUV, I pulled a souvenir T-shirt out of a bag from the gift shop and held it up, admiring it. It had the same design as Shane’s, but the T-shirt was yellow.

  “Hand me mine,” Hattie said from the middle row. I pulled out a pink shirt and handed it up to her.

  From the front seat, Greta laughed. “I can’t believe we all did that!”

  “I can’t believe Nikki did that,” Irene scoffed. “You act older than we are! Hand me my shirt. I got the red one.”

  I fished out her shirt. “Anybody else want theirs?”

  “No, but I’d like a piece of that salted caramel we bought.” Virginia reached her hand back and a piece was passed up to her. I grabbed a few for myself and threw them in my purse.

  Minutes later, we were back on the road, Virginia driving us to Branson, Missouri. I looked out the window as the rock formations flew by. Missouri was a beautiful state. It had taken us two days to get this far, and you’d think riding in a vehicle that long with five grannies would make for a pretty boring trip, but it had been anything but. We had laughed, shared stories, even cried a few times. As I looked around the SUV, Virginia driving with Greta by her side, Hattie and Irene in the middle row, and Grandma Dean and me in the back, I knew this was a trip I would cherish for the rest of my life.

  Greta turned around and waved her notebook in her hand. “We’ll be there in about forty-five minutes! That gives us enough time to answer a few more questions if you want!”

  Those “questions” are what had kept us busy for the last two days. Greta had made a list of things to ask us—some funny and some serious. It was fun to get to know the grannies this way. Information that never would’ve come out before was suddenly told in great detail. We had all learned a lot about each other. The grannies, who had known each other for years, were often surprised at some of their answers.

  “Only if you have more of that pineapple upside-down cake,” Irene answered.

  Greta smiled and turned around. I could hear her shuffling things in her bag. Soon, she was facing us again and handing out little plastic containers and forks. That was one thing you could always count on with the grannies—they had more food stored in their purses than most people did in their pantries.

  I opened my container and was hit with the cheerful smell of pineapple. Greta made the best cakes, pies, and cookies, and lucky for us, she had brought plenty of treats for our trip.

  As we sunk our forks into the sweet, moist cake, Greta read the first question. “Okay, what is the weirdest smell you’ve ever smelled?”

  “Lloyd,” I blurted out. The grannies laughed. Lloyd was the resident ladies’ man at the retirement home where the grannies lived and where I stayed with Grandma Dean. For some reason, he frequently smelled like hotdogs.

  Hattie chuckled. “He’s my Oscar Mayer wiener.” Hattie and Lloyd were dating and, most likely, soon-to-be engaged. The
man never wore anything more than a Speedo and a robe, and his new nickname was now etched in my mind and would haunt me forever. Thanks a lot, Hattie.

  Irene spoke up. “Hattie, do you remember that one time we went fishing, and when we were packing up, I put the container of bait in the cooler with our lunch leftovers?”

  Hattie made a face. “Oh yeah, and the pickles tipped over somehow.”

  “And then we left it in your car for a week,” Irene finished.

  “Please tell me you threw it all away and didn’t even open the cooler,” Grandma said, cringing.

  “Oh, we opened it,” Hattie said. “And then we nearly died.”

  “That was the strangest smell,” Irene added. “The bait, our left-over egg sandwiches, and the pickle juice, all rotting in the Florida heat for a week.”

  Hattie laughed. “And then we put it on my kitchen counter, and Lloyd came in and asked what smelled so good, and he ate the pickles!”

  I gagged. “Didn’t you try to stop him?!”

  Hattie shrugged. “It wouldn’t have done any good. That man has never seen a pickle he didn’t like.”

  “Next question,” Virginia said as she drove.

  “Okay, let me see . . .” Greta scanned the page, and then she said, “Here’s a good one! What is something you had to learn the hard way?”

  “I’ve got one,” Hattie said. “Don’t take a sleeping pill and a laxative the same night. I’ll just tell you right now that doesn’t end well.”

  The grannies chuckled, and then Virginia spoke up. “If someone is upset, don’t ask them if it’s because of their haircut. My sister didn’t talk to me for weeks after that one.”

  I looked over at Grandma Dean and noticed that she was quietly looking out the window. I glanced up at the grannies and could tell they all saw the same thing. Greta gave me a reassuring smile, then turned around in her seat. The SUV was quiet.

  I could only imagine what Grandma Dean was thinking. She was the whole reason we were making this trip. Many years ago, she had been married to the man of her dreams, a man named Thomas, the mother of her unborn baby. Her mother-in-law had made them get an annulment—all because she didn’t think Grandma Dean was good enough for her son.

  Grandma spent the next several years trying to prove her worth. She tried to get in touch with Thomas to tell him she was pregnant, but his mother refused every letter that was sent. Thankfully, Grandma Dean met Glenn. First he was her agent, and then he became her husband. By then, Grandma Dean was famous in Europe for her commercials, her part in a soap opera, and later, movies. She was a singer, dancer, actress—and she was amazing at all of them.

  And now here she was, early seventies, riding to Branson, Missouri to finally come face-to-face with the man that had been ripped from her a little over a half century ago. I didn’t even know what would be going through my mind if I were her.

  Thomas didn’t know we were coming. Virginia had done a Google search and found his address. That was a week ago. Now here we were, passing a sign that said Branson was just thirty-two miles away.

  I reached over and put my hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze. She squeezed back, but didn’t take her eyes off the window.

  We were quiet the rest of the way, not knowing what we could uncover on this road trip, but knowing that for Grandma Dean, it could be life changing.

  2

  I stepped out of the SUV and stretched. It felt so good to be out of the vehicle. We grabbed our suitcases from the back and headed to the hotel’s front door. The quietness from the last few miles of the trip was slowly being replaced by the excitement of finally arriving.

  Virginia opened the door of the hotel, and we all walked in. It wasn’t a new or modern place. Instead, it was cozy and charming. It had a lived-in look that welcomed you right in.

  The woman behind the desk greeted us with a big smile. “Welcome! I’m Paulette! What can I do for you?”

  Grandma told her we had reservations, and while she checked us in, I walked around the lobby. There was a small coffee area in the corner, a glass coffee table surrounded by a few chairs, and toward the back of the lobby, a couch. Even though I had sat for hours on end, I wanted to flop down and rest. Why was traveling so exhausting?

  “Isn’t this adorable!” Greta said, picking up a couch pillow that had colorful birds embroidered on it. “I’ve always admired people who could do this.”

  “What’s out here?” Virginia asked, already opening a door that led outside. “Oh look, girls! It’s a little patio!”

  We walked outside, and Hattie practically skipped down the few steps that led off the patio on the other side. “A koi pond!” she shrieked.

  We joined Hattie and watched the bright orange fish as they swam up to us, realized we weren’t going to feed them, and swam away. “This is making me hungry,” Hattie said. “I wonder if we can get a good fish dinner around here somewhere. Let’s go back inside and ask Paulette where we should eat!”

  My stomach grumbled, so I followed Hattie inside, the other grannies right behind me. Grandma was just finishing up when we walked in.

  “Hey, Paulette,” Hattie called out. “Where’s a good place to eat?”

  Paulette grabbed a piece a of paper. “I’ll jot down a few restaurants for you. We have a lot of good ones!”

  She handed Grandma the paper, and we thanked Paulette and followed Grandma out the door. It was the kind of hotel where the rooms were all accessible from the outside, so Grandma gave the grannies their keys and room numbers. Instead of taking our luggage and heading to our rooms, we all stood there staring at Grandma Dean.

  “Why are you all looking at me like that?” she asked.

  We glanced at each other. Who was going to bring it up? Virginia decided to be the brave one. “Are we heading over to see Thomas tonight? Maybe after dinner?”

  Grandma shook her head. “I’m too worn out. Let’s give it a day or two.” She looked down at the list from Paulette. “There’s a pizza place on here. You ladies want to give that a try?”

  “I think Hattie was hoping for fish,” I pointed out.

  Hattie shook her head. “Nah, it just sounded good while we were looking at the koi pond. I’m okay with pizza.”

  “Let’s freshen up and meet out here in half an hour,” Grandma said, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

  We divided into pairs and walked to our rooms. “Hattie is so strange. She’s the only person I know who can stare at a koi pond and suddenly crave fish.”

  Grandma laughed. “You think that’s bad? One time I went with her to a western store so she could buy herself a cowboy hat and boots for some line dancing class she and Irene were taking. We had to leave before she even bought anything because she said the smell of leather made her want to eat steak. It was so intense, she ended up having to order a hat and boots made out of vegan leather off the internet.”

  “Vegan leather?” I laughed. “What the heck is that?”

  “I have no idea,” Grandma said, rolling her eyes.

  Our room was just as homey as the lobby had been. Grandma washed her face and reapplied her makeup, brushed her hair, and changed her clothes. She looked over at me and grimaced. “Aren’t you going to freshen up?”

  “I sprayed myself with some body spray,” I said from my chair in the corner.

  Grandma sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like Lysol in here? It didn’t smell like that when we first walked in.”

  “Fine. I sprayed myself with Lysol,” I admitted. I forgot to bring body spray, but thankfully, I found a little can of Lysol in my luggage. I had no idea how long it had been in there, but I figured it was better than nothing.

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” Grandma said walking over to me and grabbing the can off the nightstand. “Crisp linen? Really, Nikki, this is your way of freshening up?”

  “Hey, I smell better than I did before, and ninety-nine percent of my bacteria is now gone.”

  Grandma rolled her eyes. “If
Kitty Purry were here . . .”

  Kitty Purry was one of Grandma’s cats. The other was Catalie Portman. Kitty was a diva and the one that Grandma consulted when she was doing my hair or makeup, and apparently, about my choice in body sprays.

  Grandma put the can down. “Come on,” she said pulling me to the bathroom. “Let’s do . . . something with you.”

  I was used to this routine. Grandma was always fixing me up. She had me wash my face and then put on the mandatory mascara and lip gloss. She stood back and smiled.

  “There! That really livened you up!” She was right. My eyes looked brighter, and I looked more awake . . . and somehow, I felt more awake. Maybe there was something to this “freshening up” thing after all.

  Ten minutes later, we were all piling in Virginia’s SUV and putting on our seat belts. Once all the doors closed, Hattie sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like someone threw up in here, then doused the car with Lysol?”

  All the grannies sniffed. “It’s Nikki,” Grandma finally said. All eyes were on me for a moment.

  “It figures,” Irene said, turning around in her seat.

  I had learned a lot about older people in the months I had lived with Grandma. They could be extremely caring and encouraging . . . they could also be brutally honest, their filters having disintegrated along with their collagen.

  But I knew they loved me, and they meant well. I also knew this would be the last time I would use Lysol as a body spray.

  As soon as we walked into the restaurant, the smell of pizza made my stomach rumble. There was a buffet with just about every kind of pizza you could imagine. I couldn’t wait to get my plate and pile it high. And that’s just what I did, adding a little bit of a salad on the side so I wouldn’t get a lecture from the grannies about eating more vegetables.