Page 6 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

"Who wasn't working?" Aunt Velma asked.

I looked at Aunt Velma, my eyes narrowed. She'd gotten a diet soda from the fridge. "Get me one of those. And guess what? That detective wasn't even on shift when he pulled me over."

Aunt Velma's mouth fell open, then pinched into a thin line. "Well, I never." She shook her head back and forth, earrings swinging, as she went back into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, slam shut.

"He had his gun and badge on his belt," I remembered. She handed me a soda and I braced the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I popped the top.

"He was making a stop and didn't know what to expect," Carl said.

"That's for sure," I mumbled.

"When you went all crazy on him, he didn't want to shoot you, that's why he used the taser. Even though you punched him in the nose."

I took a big swig of my soda to cool down and to keep my mouth shut for a few extra seconds.

"I didn't go all...listen, Carl, never mind. It's over. I don't have to see that guy again so let's just forget about it."

Another pause. "Really?"

I wasn't so sure what would happen if I saw Officer McHottie again, but it wasn't Carl's problem. Besides, I had to listen to the guy have sex with my aunt—Carl, not McHottie—so I needed to save something in reserve for when I needed to really yell at him. Say, later tonight.

"Really." I sighed.

"Well, all right then." He sounded relieved. "I'm going to have a patrol car drop me off and get your Rabbit and I'll bring it by later. It's the least I can do, considering."

Aunt Velma had bought the red Rabbit for me when I'd come home from boarding school the summer after I turned sixteen. It had been old and a clunker then, but I'd loved it right from the start. It had been my little piece of independence and it still was. Even though I wasn't in town often, Aunt Velma kept up with the maintenance and had it waiting for me.

"Thanks, Carl."

I glanced at Aunt Velma who was leaning against the doorway listening to the one-sided conversation. "Do you want to talk to him?'

"Just tell him not to forget the whipped cream. Oh, and tell him I've got the cherries."

That, I doubted. She hadn't had her cherry since 1971.

"Did you hear that, Carl, because I'm not repeating it."

"Gotcha." He hung up.

I untangled myself from the cord and hung the phone back up.

"What are you going to do now?" Aunt Velma asked, finished with her soda and now sifting through the mail. "Hey, I might have won a million dollars!" She held up the envelope with a sarcastic twist to her mouth, then tossed the lot into the recycling bin in the corner of the kitchen.

I sighed. "I missed the candle festival, so I've got to figure out what I'm going to do for the next assignment."

Aunt Velma perked up. "Hey. You don't have to go all the way to Thailand for candles. We can just go to the candle store at the mall. I love that pumpkin spice one, but that's seasonal and they don't always carry it."

Yeah, no. "This isn't exactly the same thing."

"Well, it was worth a try," she said, forlorn. "Don't you have another assignment lined up?"

I took another sip of soda. "Not until the end of August."

"Hmm."

That little sound was fairly innocuous coming from most people, but when Aunt Velma hmm'd, I got worried. I had good reason. The list of things that had happened to me after a hmm included getting our legs waxed because of a two-for-one coupon that came in those coupon packs in the mail, getting matching cornrows in our hair for the fifth grade International Day festival at school and building an outdoor chicken coop so we could have our own eggs. The worst was when she'd set me up on a blind double date with Hank Gilwater...and his father. When Hank and I had to watch his dad and Aunt Velma make out at themovies, then get kicked out for it, it had solidified that boarding school would be a good place for me.

Aunt Velma and I always got along, but she was a free spirit and raised me to be independent, just like she was. She'd been married back in the sixties long enough to be saddled with the last name of Dinkweiler, and that had been that for legal unions. Since then, she'd had more non-legal unions than I could remember, including Mr. Gilwater. So when I'd said I wanted to go away to boarding school, Aunt Velma understood I needed to spread my wings—her words, not mine.