Free Citizen Insane (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #2) by Karen Cantwell Page B

way.
    “Get out of my way!” I holler. “I’m a menace behind the wheel! They should revoke my license!”
    Now I realize the van has turned into a Mini Cooper and Matt Damon is sitting next to me.
    “Drive it like I did in the Bourne Identity,” he says.
    “But Matt, that wasn’t you—that was a stunt driver.
    He looks upset. “Really? Oh, Pooh Bear.”
    Before I know it, Matt is gone and Winnie-the-Pooh sits in his place eating from a honey jar.
    “Pooh Bear,” I say to myself. “Why does that sound so familiar?
    When I look up, the Mini-Cooper is about to plow right into the entire cast of Porky’s Revenge.
    My eyes opened before I witnessed the pigs fly.
    Pooh Bear. Michelle’s last words before she lost consciousness. In all of the mayhem, I’d forgotten. Was it a message? Like Orson Wells whispering “Rosebud” just before he dropped the snowglobe then kicked the bucket in Citizen Kane ? Or did she just have a thing for silly ol’ bears? My head started to pound as I relived the grisly scene from last night. I touched the throbbing spot and felt a nasty knot where the tree branch had struck me. Wouldn’t I be a lovely sight? The clock on my bed stand told me it was 7:05 in the morning. Not exactly a full night’s restful sleep, but I was awake now and sounds drifted from downstairs. Someone was home.
    When I pulled the quilt away to sit up, I remembered I had fallen asleep uncovered. Then I noticed the note on the bed next to me. Shower before you come down. You don’t want to scare the girls. Came up with a story—just play along . The handwriting wasn’t Howard’s—it was Colt’s familiar scrawl. What a guy. It wasn’t until I looked in the mirror that I understood why the girls might become frightened. My shirt and sweatpants were stained with blood. Some dried caked remnants remained on my arms as well, even though they tried to clean it off at the hospital.
    The shower felt so good that I didn’t want it to end. But taking up residence in the bathroom was no way to live, so I got out, dressed myself, slapped a band-aid over the black and blue goose egg on my forehead, turned my frown upside down and headed downstairs. The enticing aroma of fried bacon welcomed me before the girls did. I found them sitting around the table munching. Colt was bent over Amber, cutting a banana into her bowl of Rice Krispies. Bethany was reading a book while shoveling scrambled eggs into her mouth, and Callie ate a piece of toast while glued to the screen of her cell phone. A pretty typical morning in our house except I never fixed eggs and bacon on a school day. Colt would make some lucky woman a great wife one day.
    “Hey there, Curly!” Having finished slicing the banana, he popped the last bit into his own mouth and threw the peel into my kitchen trash can. “Pull up a chair. The coffee is ready.”
    Amber patted the table. “Sit next to me, Mommy! Look what Colt made!”
    Next to her bowl of cereal was a pancake as big as the plate it sat on—two banana slices for eyes, a mouth made of chocolate chips and whipped cream hair. “I can’t eat it,” she said solemnly. “It’s too pretty.”
    Before my butt hit the chair, a steamy cup of brew was placed in front of me, already fixed to my liking—a teaspoon of sugar and a dash of cream. While I sipped, a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and sliced tomatoes appeared. Holy cow. I wondered if I had I moved to Bizarre-o-world where mothers were treated as well as their children. “So, when did you guys get here?” I asked before scooping up some eggs.
    “Your mom called the condo at six-thirty this morning,” answered Colt. “She had somewhere to be. I told her I’d pick up the girls and bring them home for you.”
    I wanted to know why Howard didn’t bring them, but was afraid of the answer, so I decided not to ask. At least not until the girls were gone.
    “Man,” I said smiling at my three beauties. “You must be tired.”
    “Not me.”