Read Online Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 01 - Wild Nights by Mary Ellen Courtney - Free Book Online Page B

Karin, now Oscar had it, and she was queasy.
     
    Burial day and I overslept. I grabbed Emily and rushed out the door. I’d decided to read “Wild Nights” as a send off. The sun was shining, the air was clean and the mountains were out; it was a beautiful day to be buried, even in Altadena.
    Eric and Anna were in front of the cemetery office talking to the funeral director. I could tell from fifty paces that my brother was uptight.
    “The hearse broke down,” he said. “Grandma is stranded on the 15.”
    “Wow,” I said. “Did you call Mom and Binky?”
    “Not yet. We’re going to Plan C. We have to get this done today, even if it’s the middle of the night.”
    “I have to be somewhere. I can’t spend all day with this.”
    “I know, I’m sorry. These guys are going to send one of their cars down to pick her up. We should still be able to get her in the ground by dark.”
    I could see Stroud and Rex roaming around the Hollywood Hills; he might want to skip the whole thing. I called him.
    “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
    “Things have changed.”
    “Ah, I wondered.”
    “Not that. Grandma’s ride broke down on the 15. She’s stranded. They’re sending a hearse from here, but it’s going to add hours to this process.”
    “I’ll drive right by her.”
    “Well pick her up and bring her with you!”
    Eric looked at me with laser vision. I shook my head. I was kidding!
    “Who’s that?” asked Eric.
    “It’s a friend, Eric. He’s coming up for dinner. He just mentioned that he’d be driving by Grandma.”
    “What’s he driving?”
    “A truck.”
    My brother does hired gun computer problem solving for the highest bidder. I could swear his earlobes lit up and flashed in synchronicity with his snapping synapses. “How big?”
    The funeral director caught the drift and protested. “Not just anyone can transport a body. We have a hearse.”
    Eric spun on him wild-eyed, “Is it illegal?”
    “Well no,” said the funeral director, “but it’s not dignified.”
    “I don’t think she’s worried about being dignified anymore,” said Eric. “I know I’m not.”
    Eric turned to me and stuck out his arm, “Let me talk to him.”
    “My brother wants to talk to you,” I said to Stroud. “His name’s Eric.”
    Eric walked off toward the mausoleum of eternal slumber. He talked to Stroud, he looked at his watch; he walked back toward us, nodding his head and saying, “Thanks. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
    He hit end. “Okay, Plan D. He’s bringing Grandma.”
    Eric pulled out his phone and started programming in Stroud’s number.
    “What’s his name?”
    “Stroud, like the birdman.”
    “It says here A. Watts.”
    “His real name is Alan Watts.”
    He looked at me for a second. “Two names?”
    I shrugged.
    “Alan Watts?” he asked. “What’s that, an enlightened alias?”
    “He said it’s his name. His parents were into Zen for a while. They had their moments.”
    “So did ours, but they didn’t name me Ringo Spring.” He was shaking his head as he punched in the last of the information and walked into the office with the funeral director.
    “That was lucky,” said Anna.
    “Yeah. Ringo Spring is seriously schlocky. But Mom was in love with George Harrison. George Spring isn’t too bad. Dad would have named him Jerry Garcia Spring.”
    “I wouldn’t have married someone named Ringo. I’m not sure about Jerry either,” said Anna. “But I meant the truck is lucky.”
    “I guess. Now I’m worried that bad car karma has run amuck, and Grandma’s been shanghaied by an enlightened criminal who does a mean Texas Two Step.”
    “We’ll know soon enough,” said Anna. “At least she loved to dance.”
    “There is that. What’s the deal with this Arthur? Has Mom really stopped drinking?”
    “For now. It’s only been a few days.”
    A late model BMW in silver gray pulled in. Mom waved through the windshield. Mom and Arthur walked our way. Mom, normally