Read Online Ransom Beach (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 2) by Lawrence Kelter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence Kelter
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wop. Believe me, Ma didn't mean it in a derogatory sense.
Ma spun around. She pinned me with one hand and shook the other. "I'm going through the changes—one minute hot, one minute cold—I'm losing my mind. I'm feeling things I haven't felt in years. There are thoughts in my head...oh my God, I'm afraid to say."
I gasped. The dreaded changes...it was a subject I knew little about. I mean, I understood the process, biologically speaking, but the stories I'd heard over the years—the intense emotional changes a woman goes through—was not a subject I was expert in. Thank God. I had already bitten off more than I could chew and the last thing on earth I was prepared for was a discussion on my mother's hormonal surges. My mind was racing through a litany of possible things to say. I was searching for something clever. The best I could manage was, "Oh."
"Is that all you have to say?" She shook my shoulders. "I need help, Stephanie, serious friggin help. My mind's fuzzy and my antiperspirant's not doing its job." She checked her underarm for dampness and wrinkled her nose. "Finish up," she barked as she blew out of the kitchen. "I have to change."
I took a deep breath and called after her. "You want the cauliflower sautéed or steamed?" I didn't expect an answer.
Ma stole glances at Twain while we ate. She was good at it, peeking when everyone's eyes were focused down at the table. It was as if she had been trained in covert protocol and would've gotten away with it completely had I not been on the lookout.
Twain and Ricky finished up their session while Ma and I did the dishes. I could feel her eyes on me and knew she wanted to pick up on the conversation we had begun before dinner. I played with her, staring at the dirty dishes, ignoring her gaze.
"So what's with you?" she said. "You're over him? Just sitting across the table from that man—dear God."
I broke up. Ma snapped a dishtowel at my butt. "Over what? I'm spoken for."
Ma gritted her teeth and showed me the back of her hand. "You're such a rotten kid." She checked her armpit again. "My God, these hormones...it's a curse."
"Tell him."
"Tell him what?"
"How you feel."
"Get real."
"Then take a cold shower."
She smacked me on the arm. "You're no help at all. Change the subject. What kind of case are you working on?"
"Kidnapping."
"Madonna. That's terrible. Pretty little blonde girl I'll bet—how old?"
"No, Ma, nothing like that."
"Details, Stephanie, give me details. All of a sudden you're a woman of few words?"
Sorry, didn't mean to be cryptic. "I'm just preoccupied, Ma." I was thinking about the Nostradamus angle. It was puzzling, after all. I didn't believe the spiritual implications, but I kept considering it. Ma had always been a good sounding board so I figured why not. "Say, do you believe in all that spiritual connection type of thing?"
"Come again?"
"You know, mysticism, fru-fru... communication from beyond the grave?"
"You're nuts, do you know that? We were discussing that poor little blonde girl. What the hell are you talking about now?"
"Humor me. It has something to do with my case."
"Be more specific."
"Do you believe that we can communicate with the dead?"
Ma shook her head and pressed her lips together. "Where's the anisette? I need a good stiff one."
I gave Ma one of those obvious winks and poked my head in the direction of Ricky's bedroom. I didn't have to say anything. I snickered. She belted me and then went off in search of after dinner libation. Ma offered me a shot but I declined. She sipped at the liquor, clearing her throat as the alcohol burned its way down.
"No!" she said resolutely.
"No, what?"
"No, there is no communication with the dead. The dead don't talk. They don't walk. They don't eat. They don't pee. I know it and you know it, so why in God's name would you ask?"
"Just checking. Is there anyone else you can date? How about Morris down the hall? He's still got a full head of hair."
Ma's eyes grew wide.
Ma spun around. She pinned me with one hand and shook the other. "I'm going through the changes—one minute hot, one minute cold—I'm losing my mind. I'm feeling things I haven't felt in years. There are thoughts in my head...oh my God, I'm afraid to say."
I gasped. The dreaded changes...it was a subject I knew little about. I mean, I understood the process, biologically speaking, but the stories I'd heard over the years—the intense emotional changes a woman goes through—was not a subject I was expert in. Thank God. I had already bitten off more than I could chew and the last thing on earth I was prepared for was a discussion on my mother's hormonal surges. My mind was racing through a litany of possible things to say. I was searching for something clever. The best I could manage was, "Oh."
"Is that all you have to say?" She shook my shoulders. "I need help, Stephanie, serious friggin help. My mind's fuzzy and my antiperspirant's not doing its job." She checked her underarm for dampness and wrinkled her nose. "Finish up," she barked as she blew out of the kitchen. "I have to change."
I took a deep breath and called after her. "You want the cauliflower sautéed or steamed?" I didn't expect an answer.
Ma stole glances at Twain while we ate. She was good at it, peeking when everyone's eyes were focused down at the table. It was as if she had been trained in covert protocol and would've gotten away with it completely had I not been on the lookout.
Twain and Ricky finished up their session while Ma and I did the dishes. I could feel her eyes on me and knew she wanted to pick up on the conversation we had begun before dinner. I played with her, staring at the dirty dishes, ignoring her gaze.
"So what's with you?" she said. "You're over him? Just sitting across the table from that man—dear God."
I broke up. Ma snapped a dishtowel at my butt. "Over what? I'm spoken for."
Ma gritted her teeth and showed me the back of her hand. "You're such a rotten kid." She checked her armpit again. "My God, these hormones...it's a curse."
"Tell him."
"Tell him what?"
"How you feel."
"Get real."
"Then take a cold shower."
She smacked me on the arm. "You're no help at all. Change the subject. What kind of case are you working on?"
"Kidnapping."
"Madonna. That's terrible. Pretty little blonde girl I'll bet—how old?"
"No, Ma, nothing like that."
"Details, Stephanie, give me details. All of a sudden you're a woman of few words?"
Sorry, didn't mean to be cryptic. "I'm just preoccupied, Ma." I was thinking about the Nostradamus angle. It was puzzling, after all. I didn't believe the spiritual implications, but I kept considering it. Ma had always been a good sounding board so I figured why not. "Say, do you believe in all that spiritual connection type of thing?"
"Come again?"
"You know, mysticism, fru-fru... communication from beyond the grave?"
"You're nuts, do you know that? We were discussing that poor little blonde girl. What the hell are you talking about now?"
"Humor me. It has something to do with my case."
"Be more specific."
"Do you believe that we can communicate with the dead?"
Ma shook her head and pressed her lips together. "Where's the anisette? I need a good stiff one."
I gave Ma one of those obvious winks and poked my head in the direction of Ricky's bedroom. I didn't have to say anything. I snickered. She belted me and then went off in search of after dinner libation. Ma offered me a shot but I declined. She sipped at the liquor, clearing her throat as the alcohol burned its way down.
"No!" she said resolutely.
"No, what?"
"No, there is no communication with the dead. The dead don't talk. They don't walk. They don't eat. They don't pee. I know it and you know it, so why in God's name would you ask?"
"Just checking. Is there anyone else you can date? How about Morris down the hall? He's still got a full head of hair."
Ma's eyes grew wide.
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