After all, the Dairee Freeze looked ever so much better after the
remodeling project. Honest.
"Dixie could drive the Suburban and you could walk with me," I suggested. Frankie shook his head.
"What would she do if she came upon the bad guy?"
"Scare him off?" I suggested with a snort.
"No. I don't feel comfortable with either of you on your own." Frankie pulled up in front of the campus security office. "Why
don't you let me handle the security people?" he said, looking at me, not Dixie. "After all, I'm enrolled in Criminal Justice
courses and looking to go to the DPS Academy next year. That ought to gain me a little credibility."
I felt my lip curl. "Be my guest, Mr. Big Shot," I said.
"I'll just catch a few z's waiting for you to impress the fuzz with your credentials." I was finding this new take-charge
Frankie as annoying as old lady stockings on my shower rod.
"You comin', Dix?" my cousin asked when he realized the slight to his sweetie.
"Naw. You go on. I'd better keep an eye on Ms. Calamity here," she said. I became slightly nauseated when Frankie leaned back
to give Dixie a quick kiss.
"Do you two mind?" I said. "Jeesch."
Frankie exited the vehicle and entered the security office, and I searched through the CD case for a decent tune. Uncle Frank's
taste ran to songs from the fifties and sixties, with an eclectic mix that included Buddy Holly, The Beach Boys, Chicago,
and some classic country legends like Johnny Cash, Alabama, and The Oak Ridge Boys. While I was cool with these oldies but
goodies, I found I wasn't in the mood for any of them. I slid behind the wheel, turned the key to accessory, and switched
on the radio. A caller was whining about her mother-in-law's meddling, and Dr. Laura was chewing her a new one for not letting
her children see their grandmother. How depressing.
"Here." Dixie handed me a CD. It was Carly Simon's Greatest Hits. I was pleasantly surprised. I'm always in the mood for Carly.
Isn't everyone?
"Cool," I said, sticking the CD in and sitting back to wait for Carly to work her magic.
We took turns selecting songs. I started with "Anticipation." Dixie picked "Haven't Got Time for the Pain." I went with "You're
So Vain" next. Dixie countered with "Legend in Your Own Time." At "Mockingbird," we'd started to sing along, and by the time
we got to "Let the River Run," we were belting it out right along with Carly.
"'Let the river run--!"' I was really getting into it when Dixie reached up and cut the music.
"Uh, what's the problem?" I asked.
"Besides that caterwauling? Look!" Dixie pointed to a parking lot adjacent to where we sat in the suburban.
"What?" I looked around.
"Not what! Who. It's Keith Gardner!"
"Keith Gardner, the weenie waver?"
"One and the same. What do we do?"
I watched Gardner get in an older model, dark blue pickup and back out. "We follow," I said, starting the SUV. I put it in
reverse and backed out.
"But the Suburban! Your uncle Frank! Frankie!"
"It's okay," I reassured her. "I've had experience tailing a suspect before."
"In a thirty-thousand-dollar automobile?"
I blanched. My first home probably wouldn't cost that much. "Would you rather drive?" I asked. I swung out of the lot and
slid in behind Gardner's pickup, staying three car lengths back.
"What will Frankie think when he comes out to find you've taken off with the Suburban?"
I picked up on the you part right away.
"I'll tell him you made me do it, of course," I told her. "After all, it was you who pointed Keith out. I was perfectly content
with my Carly sing-along till you sounded the perv alarm."
"We seriously can't get a scratch on this car," Dixie said. "Seriously, Turner. Frank would never forgive me. And he'd never
let Frankie hear the end of it. As it is, he's none too thrilled with the prospect of a Daggett becoming his daughter-in-law.
Wrecking his Suburban would be the kiss of death to him ever welcoming me into his family."
I reached into my
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