Page 73 of Bad Intentions
“Because I want some baked goods and spring plants. And because that’s what people do. Normal things. Every day. Shopping, cooking, not nervously waiting for their car to get detailed.”
I don’t argue. Those were probably Mrs. Snickett’s instructions. She’s a tough cookie. Rika must take after her, because there’s no trace of worry on her face. In fact, when I stare at her, waiting for her to bring up what happened last night, she ignores me and starts singing along with the song on the radio.
Rika grew up in Florida, yet she’s well-versed in the shoofly pies and pickled eggs she plans to buy at the market. When I point it out, she argues, “Not really. I’m learning. I’m in Pennsylvania for now, so I might as well explore the local stuff.”
“You still didn’t tell me what you are doing here.”
“Honestly, just taking a breather, getting my things straight.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
She snorts. “I’m not that sneaky, Boots. I do well with my art stuff. I needed to get away from the noise and bad company.”
“Uh-huh. So you are trouble.”
“No, just staying away from it.”
“And here we are.”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but Rika ignores me anyway.
We stop at an Amish greenhouse, and she picks up a couple of pies and some early-spring plants and buys us both potted succulents. I realize I left my wallet at the house. I need to pay for my car to be detailed, so before I get back to the carwash, Rika drives me back home.
Only two hours together, and I’ve learned more about her life, art, and what she did back in Florida. We were strangers just a week ago, and now we are partners in crime.
As Rika pulls up to my grandma’s house, I see Mrs. Snickett’s beat-up Toyota in the driveway and a police car next to it.
“Well, isn’t that a gathering of old birds?” Rika says, eyeing both cars with interest.
“Just go around and pull into the back alley,” I say, nervous right away.
“I think you are paranoid.”
“Are you blind, Rika? There’s a police car there.”
“So what?”
“What if they are there for me?”
“They’re not. It’s the chief.”
“So?”
“The chief has been buddies with your grandma for decades.”
“Obviously I know that.”
“Buddies with benefits.”
“Ew. Will you stop spreading rumors?”
“Those are facts.”
“Oh, yeah? Because everyone in this town is into facts.”
“No. But that one is a fact.”
“Maybe he’s giving Grams an update.”
