Granny Undercover (Secret Agent Granny Book 2) Page 10

  I snorted. He said “everything went down” like every bad cop movie I’d ever seen. This guy was something else.

  “Investigate?” I scoffed. “You only showed up when they were ready to skip town. You probably figured out I didn’t believe your phony story and was going to investigate this case on my own. You only came in as damage control.”

  “No, you got to believe me. I wanted to do what was right, but I didn’t want my brother-in-law to get hurt.”

  We still stood in that ridiculous position, half turned to each other with our guns leveled, aiming at nothing. He swayed on his feet. Blood flowed freely down his arm and side.

  “You got to believe me,” he repeated.

  I sighed. As a matter of fact, I did believe him. If he had truly wanted to cover things up, he would have wiped away those footprints. He would have taken the time to make up a better cover story. What he should have done was call in the state police for help. Instead, he had tried to do everything himself and ended up doing everything the wrong way, but he had done it for family. This weak, ineffectual man had only been trying to save his sister some heartache. There were probably kids involved too.

  “Put that gun down,” I demanded. He was too stupid to be trusted.

  He did as he was told, laying it on the nearest table with a heavy thud as if it weighed a hundred pounds. With that wounded shoulder, it probably felt that heavy.

  “Come on,” I said in a gentler voice. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”

  He only nodded, not meeting my eye. Luckily, he still had enough strength to make it out the back door on his own. I wouldn’t have been able to support his weight.

  There was no police cruiser parked out back, only Grimal’s private vehicle. I shook my head in disgust. A cop with secrets to hide is no cop worthy of the name.

  He had tried to save my life, though. That counted for something.

  A sedan rolled slowly around the corner. Instinctively, I raised my pistol. Anonymity be damned. This was survival.

  Through the window, I saw a rugged face obscured by sunglasses. The man didn’t flinch at the sight of a gun pointed at him. Instead, he turned the car around and drove out of sight.

  I was tempted to fire, but I could not be one hundred percent sure I wouldn’t be firing at a civilian.

  The last look the driver gave me told me my hunch was correct.

  I’d just seen the Exterminator.

  I didn’t bother to note the make and model of the car or the license plate. It was stolen anyway, and he’d be long gone before the Cheerville flatfoots could trace him. Besides, I sensed that even if the town’s entire police force cornered him, he’d come out alive.

  Not anyone else, just him.

  My gut feelings are almost always correct. Sometimes that’s not a good thing.

  The Exterminator had “professional” written all over him. I hoped he was professional enough to cut his losses and know not to come back to Cheerville again. There was no profit in messing with me.

  I hoped.

  Eleven

  “Grandma’s got a boyfriend! Grandma’s got a boyfriend!” Martin announced in a singsong voice when I brought him back to his parents’ house the following day. My knees and wrists still hurt from the fight. My ego hurt too, knowing Grimal had gotten all the credit for the bust. I had decided to continue being anonymous.

  My daughter-in-law, Alicia, smiled and said, “Aw, isn’t that sweet,” in a voice you’d use if you heard your fifth grader had gotten a boyfriend.

  My son, Frederick, got an uncomfortable look on his face and asked, “Is this true?” in a voice you’d use if you heard your eleventh grader had spent the night at her boyfriend’s house.

  “He’s just a friend,” I replied. My tone came out a bit too defensive to be convincing.

  “I see,” Frederick said, still sounding like the concerned parent.

  “They were kissing,” Martin said, making a smoochy face.

  I blushed. Frederick blushed. Alicia rolled her eyes and turned away. Martin looked triumphant.

  “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble?” my son asked.

  I presumed he meant Martin and not my “boyfriend.”

  “No, he’s been wonderful as usual, although a bit prone to telling tall tales.”

  “You sure? You look worn out. You’re not coming down with something, are you?” My son had become overly concerned with my health since I’d hit seventy, although I was in as good a shape as anyone could expect at my age.

  “Oh, I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long few days.”

  “Sorry. I really appreciate it,” Frederick said.

  I let him think I meant Martin and not a murder investigation. A few guilt points are always handy to have with your son, even if he is a grown man.

  “Will you stay for dinner?” Alicia called from the kitchen. “Frederick is making meat loaf.”

  I suppressed a shudder. I’d rather face down another gang of loan sharks than brave the terrors of my son’s meat loaf. Poor Martin, although I guessed he deserved it for spilling the beans on me and Octavian.

  “No, thank you. I already have some food prepared, and I think I’ll turn in early. Plus, I have someone I need to see.”

  “Oooh,” came Martin’s voice from the couch. He was blasting aliens on the Xbox but remarkably still listening to our conversation. Usually when he played video games, he really was on another planet. “She’s going to see her boyfriend!”

  “Martin!” Alicia shouted from the kitchen. What she said next got drowned out by the blender. She sounded like she was crushing ice for a margarita. After such a long trip and the prospect of facing her husband’s meat loaf, she needed one.

  “No, I’m seeing someone else,” I declared and then said goodbye.

  What I didn’t mention was that I’d see Octavian later for a drink of our own. But first, I needed to pay a visit to Police Chief Grimal.

  I found him in his office, looking guarded and downcast. His arm was in a sling.

  I closed the door behind me and sat down opposite him without being invited and gave him the Look.

  The Look—always capitalized both in its written and spoken form, just like the Exterminator—is something cultivated by all CIA operatives. We actually practice it on each other and do it in front of the mirror until we get it right. The Look can change with the situation. You don’t use the same Look on some low-level narcotrafficker as you would on an international assassin, but the Look always says more or less the same thing—“I don’t care if you live or die, but I’m going to make damn sure you do what I tell you.”

  It helps if the recipient of the Look knows you’re CIA. Police Chief Grimal did.

  So I used the Look. I didn’t say anything, I just Looked.

  And Looked.

  He visibly wilted. He knew he was in trouble, as much trouble as I wanted to put him in. I could ruin his life forever. His brother-in-law’s life too.

  But I wasn’t going to. Because in the end, Grimal had only been protecting his family. He’d done it in a stupid way, a sloppy way, a way that nearly got himself and me killed, but his motives had been good ones.

  I raised a forefinger.

  “You get one more chance.”

  Grimal looked up at me, hope sparking in his eyes.

  “But you have to remember one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  I turned my hand downward and pressed it against the nameplate on his desk, making it fall over with a clack. I pressed harder. My fingertip landed on the word “Chief.”

  “From now on, you’re my tool. You understand? You do what I tell you, nothing more, nothing less, and if I catch you messing up again…”

  I flicked the nameplate across the desk. It bounced off his gut and clattered to the floor.

  I got up and walked out of the office without another word.

  After that, I went home and fed Dandelion, worked in the garden for a little while, and then went out
for a lovely cup of tea with Octavian.

  As you wait for book 3 of the Secret Granny Mysteries, read Sweets and a Stabbing, the first book in the Pink Cupcake Mysteries.

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  All Books by Harper Lin

  The Secret Agent Granny Mysteries

  Granny’s Got a Gun: Book 1

  The Wonder Cats Mysteries

  A Hiss-tory of Magic: Book 1

  Pawsitively Dead: Book 2

  Cat-atrophic Spells: Book 3

  The Scariest Tail: Book 4

  Purr-fect Getaway: Book 5

  Un-fur-tunate Murders: Book 6

  Box Set Volume I: Books 1-3

  The Pink Cupcake Mysteries

  Sweets and a Stabbing: Book 1

  A Deadly Bridal Shower: Book 2

  Food Festival and a Funeral: Book 3

  Cold Case and Cupcakes: Book 4

  The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries

  Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse: Book 1

  Tea, Tiramisu, and Tough Guys: Book 2

  Margaritas, Marzipan, and Murder: Book 3

  Lattes, Ladyfingers, and Lies: Book 4

  Americanos, Apple Pies, and Art Thieves: Book 5

  The Emma Wild 4-book Holiday Series

  4-Book Holiday Series

  Killer Christmas: Book 1

  New Year’s Slay: Book 2

  Death of a Snowman: Book 3

  Valentine’s Victim: Book 4

  Complete 4-Book Box Set

  The Patisserie Mysteries

  Macaron Murder: Book 1

  Éclair Murder: Book 2

  Baguette Murder: Book 3

  Crêpe Murder: Book 4

  Croissant Murder: Book 5

  Crème Brûlée Murder: Book 6

  Madeleine Murder: Book 7

  Opera Cake Murder: Book 8

  Chocolat Chaud Murder: Book 9

  Box Set Volume I: Books 1-4

  Box Set Volume II: Books 5-8

  A Note From Harper

  Thank you so much for reading Granny Undercover. It’s such a fun series to work on. If you were entertained, please recommend it to friends and family who you think would enjoy it too. I would also appreciate honest book reviews to help spread the word.

  I have 5 other cozy mystery series. If you haven’t read my other books and are wondering what to read next, I recommend:

  • The Wonder Cats Mysteries, about three witches trying to use their powers for good in a small town near the mystical Niagara Falls. Read an excerpt of book 1 at the end of this book.

  • The Pink Cupcake Mysteries: about the baker of a cupcake food truck solving mysteries in a quirky town in Oregon.

  • The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries: about an amateur sleuth/ owner of an Italian family cafe in a charming beach town.

  • The Patisserie Mysteries: a culinary cozy series set in Paris featuring French dessert recipes.

  • The Emma Wild Mysteries: a 4-Book holiday cozy series about a famous singer returning to her small Canadian town.

  A couple of the first books in the series are FREE at the moment so be sure to try them out while they still are.

  If you want to be the first to hear about new book releases and 99¢ sales, sign up for my mailing list.

  I’m also on Facebook, where I’ll be hosting giveaways, and posting surprise announcements and book updates.

  Follow my Pinterest boards to see the locations, fashions, and inspirations behind each book.

  You can also connect with me on Goodreads.

  If you’d like to get in touch with me directly, you can email me at harperlinauthor@outlook.com. I would love to hear what you think about the books. Do also drop me a note if you happen to catch any mistakes. While each book is edited and proofread by professionals, errors can still slip through sometimes. As an indie writer, I want to provide readers with the smoothest read possible.

  Last but not least, visit my website for the latest news and my blog.

  Thanks and much love,

  Harper

  About the Author

  Harper Lin is the USA TODAY bestselling author of 6 cozy mystery series including The Patisserie Mysteries and The Cape Bay Cafe Mysteries.

  When she's not reading or writing mysteries, she loves going to yoga classes, hiking, and hanging out with her family and friends.

  www.HarperLin.com

  Excerpt from “Sweets and a Stabbing”

  The truck to Amelia’s right was the Turkey Club. They served huge, Henry VIII turkey drumsticks that made the area around their truck smell like Thanksgiving. To the right of the Turkey Club was the Burrito Wagon.

  As Amelia strained her neck to look past the Turkey Club to the Burrito Wagon, she saw a very large man wearing cowboy boots that came to fine points that curved slightly upward. Tattoos were common in Oregon, but that man’s seemed a bit overwhelming, as they covered his arms and crept up his neck, almost all the way up his bald head.

  “Yikes. No one’s going to complain about the food over there,” Lila mumbled. “That’s the kind of neighbor to make friends with.”

  Just as Amelia was about to look away, a small lady in a dress and Nikes came around to the front of the Burrito Wagon and patted the large man on the back.

  “Hey, I know that lady.” Amelia straightened up.

  She grabbed one of her raspberry-chocolate cupcakes that was large enough for two people, slipped it into a hot-pink paper boat with a piece of wax paper over the top, and headed over to the Burrito Wagon.

  “Mrs. Vega!” Amelia called as she tried to balance her cupcake while maneuvering around an ocean-sized rain puddle.

  The old woman turned around. Smiling broadly, she waved. “Señora Harley! Hola.”

  “Hi.” Amelia panted, a little out of breath. “It looks like we’re neighbors at home and at work.” Proudly, Amelia pointed to her big pink truck.

  “Ay, that’s your truck? It’s beautiful!”

  “Yeah. And here, this is for you.” She handed her the cupcake. “To help your morning coffee go down.”

  “Oh, you’re so sweet. Gracias. Thank you.” She looked at the big brute adjusting the awning over the window. “This is my nephew, Matthew Rodriguez.”

  He turned around and gave a quick smile as he reached out a plump, beefy hand that engulfed Amelia’s completely.

  “Hello,” he said quickly and went back to fixing the awning.

  Amelia wanted to stare to try to figure out what the elaborate, scrolling letters said on his neck but found her manners, nodded in response, and looked back at Mrs. Vega.

  “You come by after closing and take home meal tonight for you and the kids. Two burrito feed you guys for three days.” Mrs. Vega let out a laugh as she patted her nephew on the back.

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Mrs. Vega. Nice to meet you, Matthew.”

  Once back safely out of the elements and inside the Pink Cupcake, Amelia and Lila played a game of cards and waited for the rain to end.

  “You’re not very good at Go Fish,” Lila teased. “I didn’t think there was anyone who could be bad at Go Fish.”

  Amelia laughed and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. My mind is just going over the numbers in my head. I know what I need to make each day to break even. Any day that I don’t make that, I’ll have to try for double the next day. It’s just… frustrating.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s too early to panic.” Lila looked out the open window and inhaled deeply. “This rain won’t last.”

  She was right. After another hour, the rain stopped as quickly as it had started. Like bees to honey, the lunchtime crowd scurried out of their buildings wearing galoshes, carrying umbrellas, and looking for sustenance.

  The rest of the day flew by as Amelia baked more of the special cupcakes of the day while Lila handled the cash. No matter how busy she got, Amelia made sure each of her creations had the special little touches that she thought set her apa
rt from other bakers, like a fresh raspberry on the top of her raspberry-chocolate cupcakes, with a pinch of powdered sugar for contrast. The lemon-poppyseed cupcakes were decorated with three little silver balls of candy in the center of each, with half a purple bachelor button flower that could also be eaten. They were little works of art that tasted heavenly.

  By the time Mrs. Vega dropped off three giant burritos—she didn’t want to leave Lila to go hungry—Amelia’s tiny kitchen looked as if a tornado had hit it. Lila calculated the receipts while Amelia cleaned and secured everything for the drive home. After everything was done according to code, Lila gave Amelia the news.

  “Here’s the damage for the day.” She handed Amelia the total and watched.

  A smile spread across her face. “This is correct?”

  “I’d bet my life on it.”

  “This means we made a profit of fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

  Lila grinned.

  Amelia wanted to cry but remembered her promise to herself from that morning. Swallowing hard, she let out a giggle, tucked the receipt in the bag to turn in to the bank, and hugged Lila tightly. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been so optimistic, I might have just turned around and gone home this morning.”

  “If I weren’t optimistic, I wouldn’t have taken this job at all.”

  Declining a lift home, Lila hopped off the truck and walked in the direction Amelia had seen her come from that morning. She stepped outside the truck to wind down the awning, and a familiar voice startled her from behind.

  “Hey!” It was Adam.

  “Hey,” Amelia said, smiling. “Where is your sister?”