12. Piper #2
“We are very lucky.” For the third time that day, I started to appreciate my ordinary little life a bit more. I also knew that I would never borrow one of Mr. L’s cars.
The interior lights came on as Olive hopped out of the car.
“Wait up!” I shouted as she ran to the stairs.
“I can’t wait to see Pussy.” She let herself into the house.
Lisa shook her head. “Promise me one thing, Piper.”
When would she let this go? “I’m not going to ask Gid—” I stopped myself from saying his name. “I’m not going to ask my one-night stand how he feels about kindergarten drop-off.”
Lisa’s laugh shook the car. “That’s not what I was going to say—you already know how I feel about that. Please—” She paused dramatically. “—don’t let that kid name anything ever again.”
I wanted to tell Lisa about the whole missing cat expedition with Gideon, but the sooner I forgot about it, the better. “Trust me, I learned my lesson on that one.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
I’d already forgotten about the mystery package with the feminine handwriting. I tore it open and gasped.
“What is it?” Lisa’s eyes widened.
I held up the glossy tickets. “Two tickets to the Miami Barracudas’ game tomorrow night.” It looked like forgetting about Gideon Bailey wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d planned.
Lisa scrunched up her face. “The Barracuda game? Like hockey?” She snatched the envelope from my hands. “Who left these for you?” Her eyes scanned the tickets, then met mine. “These are really good seats, Pipes.”
“I don’t know.” Was that a lie? It had to have been Gideon, but the swirly, feminine handwriting was throwing me off. Or maybe the guy was really into penmanship—he did read cozy mysteries, after all.
Lisa flipped the tickets over and shook the envelope, as though an answer to the mystery would slip onto her lap. When nothing happened, she tucked the tickets back inside and handed the envelope to me.
I didn’t take it.
“Do you want them?” My hands remained in my lap, the envelope in hers. “You can have them.”
If Olive hadn’t been sitting in the car, her eyes darting between us, Lisa would’ve pressed me for more information.
Her eyes searched mine while the envelope remained in her hand.
“What do you say, Olive? Do you want to go watch a hockey game with your mom tomorrow night?” She set the envelope on my bare thigh, where the coffee droplets had left tender red spots.
Olive opened the back door, the overhead light brightening her face. “Do I have to?”
“See?” I got out of the car and left the tickets on the seat. “Olive doesn’t want to go.”
“Penney!” Olive darted down the driveway as Mrs. L.and her apricot teacup poodle pranced up the driveway.
Grateful for the distraction, I got out of the car and waved to Mrs. Lockelhurst. “What are you two doing walking so late?”
She laughed. “Penney’s paws have been getting more sensitive. The vet suggested walking her when the pavement isn’t so hot. I didn’t mean to be out past dark though.” She glanced at her blinged-out Rolex.
“You don’t have to be scared of the dark, Mrs. L.” Olive squatted to pat the old poodle’s tearstained face. She was missing most of her teeth and was probably cute ten years ago, but now, she had a face that only Mrs. L—and Olive—could love. “There’s nothing scary out there.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Mrs. L smiled as she watched Olive pat her dog. “But Penney can’t see very well in the best of light.”
Without taking her eyes off the dog, Olive continued petting her. “Well, what’s the big deal, then? If she’s out in the dark, does she even know it’s dark?” Olive looked up at her.
Mrs. L cackled. “From the mouths of babes.”
Olive shot me a look that said, I’m not a baby , but she didn’t say anything.
Lisa joined us. “Hi, Judith.”
“Lisa!” Mrs. Lockelhurst exclaimed. “I was wondering who gave Piper a ride home. No offense, dear, but I was hoping it was the new neighbor.”
“New neighbor?” Lisa raised her eyebrows.
I reached for Olive’s hand, hoping to cut the conversation before it continued. “Nope, it’s just Lisa.”
Mrs. L’s perfectly facelifted eyes shot to me. “Oh, I see that you got the envelope that was stuck to the door. What was in it?” She pointed to the envelope still in Lisa’s possession.
“Hockey tickets,” Lisa said. “Do you know who left them? Mr. L said that the camera couldn’t pick up much. There was no note, just Piper’s name written on the front.” Lisa presented the envelope to Mrs. L. “It’s a mystery.”
Mrs. Lockelhurst’s smile turned mischievous. “You’re not a very good detective, Lisa. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that our handsome new neighbor plays for the Miami Barracuda.”
Olive had returned to petting Penney, oblivious to the conversation between her mom, her meddling friend, and her ultra-meddling boss.
Lisa inhaled sharply. She glanced at Olive and leaned in to me. “You’re going to that game.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Of course you’re going to the game.” Mrs. L grinned. “Olive, do you like hockey?”
My daughter’s long brown ringlets whipped her cheeks as she shook her head. “No. I’d rather go swimming with Gabby. Or back to the courts. Pickleball is super fun.”
“It sure is.” Mrs. L grinned and then returned her attention to me. “I’m glad you finally got her out to play.”
“Do you want the tickets?” I handed them to Mrs. L. “Olive and I haven’t been able to spend much time together. I’d rather watch Paw Patrol with my girl than some grown men chase around a piece of rubber.”
The death stare from Lisa was the worst she’d ever given me. Mrs. Lockelhurst pursed her lips and, if I didn’t know better, shot me a look of disappointment. “If you’re not going to go, I’m sure that Keith and I can make a date night out of it. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”
I thrust the envelope into her hand, the tickets crumpling against her five-carat emerald ring band. She tilted her head and looked from me to Lisa, then slipped the tickets into the pocket of her caftan. “How’s Keith’s ankle really doing?” she asked Lisa.
“It’s really doing great,” Lisa said. “Tell him to keep up with his exercises.”
Mrs. L reached down to scoop up Penney. “He does them every morning, although sometimes we modify them if the Viagra is still working.” She winked. “Have a good night.”
“Is Viagra an ankle exercise?” Olive slipped her sweaty hand into mine.
I didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Lisa interjected. “It sure is. But I’m not supposed to talk about my patients, so you’ll have to promise me that you’ll keep Mr. L’s treatment information top secret, or else I’ll get in trouble.”
“This is a secret that’s okay to keep,” I added. Olive and I had had a few talks about keeping secrets, and our rule was that she had to check with me first.
Her eyes were wide. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, Mrs. Chen.”
“I know, Olive.” Lisa squeezed her shoulder and changed the subject. “It was so nice spending today with you. You’re a great little pickler.”
The smile that spread across Olive’s face both warmed and broke my heart. Olive was a natural; her hand-eye coordination was well above the rest of the kids her age. Even with the membership to the Azalea Bay Club, the racket sports and camps were way out of my price range.
“Thank you, Lisa. I love pickling.”
“Yes. Thank you, Lisa.” I turned and wrapped my friend in a surprise hug. She relaxed and hugged me back.
“A hockey player?” she whispered in my ear. “We need to talk.”
“Tomorrow.” I released her from my arms. “We can catch up tomorrow.”
When Lisa left, I thought the hockey game discussion went with her. I couldn’t have been more wrong.