don’t think I’m crazy?” Carmella moaned, frustrated. “Poppy, it was gone. I’m telling you, my driveway was empty.”
“Yeah, of course,” Poppy said, pacifying her friend. “How about I come over for a while, and we’ll see what we can find. Maybe they left fingerprints behind.”
“Of course…why didn’t I think of that?” She sounded relieved that Poppy believed her. At that moment, Carmella was questioning her sanity.
“Don’t touch anything until I get there and we’ll go over it together. I’m on my way.” Poppy headed out to her truck and climbed in. When it had trouble starting, she drew a deep breath, as if magically that would make the difference. She tried again, and then finally her old TrailBlazer shook to life. It had been running well for the longest time, but lately it was struggling. She’d need to drop it at the shop and have it looked at, or see if her father could figure it out. She hated the idea of having to put out more money for a new car if this one still had life in it.
The drive over to Carmella’s house wasn’t too bad. For Poppy, it was no more than twenty minutes with traffic, fifteen without. They’d first met years ago through a mutual friend. The other friend had moved on with her husband to another state, but Poppy and Carmella remained close. As she pulled into the Carriage House Gates community, she wondered which house Carmella’s husband had ended up renting. She said it was near the front of the development, so that she’d have to pass it every time she went anywhere. She had no idea what her husband was driving anymore, so looking for his car would have been pointless.
Poppy turned onto Carmella’s street and parked by the curb. Getting out, she looked at the crushed flowers by the mailbox. That wasn’t the mailman accidently stepping on them. Besides, the mailmen around here drove trucks. It was obvious it was vandalism. In fact, to make a point, somebody had taken one of the flowers, pulled it out, and put it back in the flowerbed upside down so that the roots stuck up.
She made her way up the driveway and down the paver stone path to the door. After she rang the doorbell, Poppy waited…and waited. Nothing. Poppy called out to her friend, knocking at the door and ringing a bell a second time. “Carmella?”
Her friend, all perfectly coifed and bobbed, finally made it to the door. Her voice raised an octave as she talked to the dog. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was around back with Anastasia, so she could do her little doggy business. Wasn’t I, baby?”
“Right,” Poppy said as she walked into the grand foyer. She noticed the lack of pictures on the wall and on the mahogany table beside the door. There used to be pictures of the happy family. Now all that was left were the dog pictures and empty spaces.
“Come in, come in,” she said. “It was the weirdest thing. My car, it was gone! I’m not making this up. There was nothing in my driveway. So, as soon as I hung up the phone, I dialed the police. Only, when I go to look again, it was back. I’m not losing it. Am I? I mean, I’m positive it was gone. Who takes a car and then brings it back?” She started chattering faster and faster, trying to make sense of things.
“It is an odd thing. Did somebody attempt to steal the wrong car? Or does your ex still have a key? What about your son, does he have a key?” She was trying to deduce who else would have access quickly.
“I don’t they either of them does.” She shook her head. “You were right earlier, we should check for fingerprints. Or do you think the police should do it?”
“Well, there’s no crime if your car is parked in your driveway, and still undamaged. I’m not sure that they’ll set up an investigation for a car that went missing for only a few minutes.”
Carmella sighed. “I know I sound crazy. Please, I hope you believe me. Something happened. Somebody has an agenda. Or maybe Peter’s messing with me, living so
“Yeah, of course,” Poppy said, pacifying her friend. “How about I come over for a while, and we’ll see what we can find. Maybe they left fingerprints behind.”
“Of course…why didn’t I think of that?” She sounded relieved that Poppy believed her. At that moment, Carmella was questioning her sanity.
“Don’t touch anything until I get there and we’ll go over it together. I’m on my way.” Poppy headed out to her truck and climbed in. When it had trouble starting, she drew a deep breath, as if magically that would make the difference. She tried again, and then finally her old TrailBlazer shook to life. It had been running well for the longest time, but lately it was struggling. She’d need to drop it at the shop and have it looked at, or see if her father could figure it out. She hated the idea of having to put out more money for a new car if this one still had life in it.
The drive over to Carmella’s house wasn’t too bad. For Poppy, it was no more than twenty minutes with traffic, fifteen without. They’d first met years ago through a mutual friend. The other friend had moved on with her husband to another state, but Poppy and Carmella remained close. As she pulled into the Carriage House Gates community, she wondered which house Carmella’s husband had ended up renting. She said it was near the front of the development, so that she’d have to pass it every time she went anywhere. She had no idea what her husband was driving anymore, so looking for his car would have been pointless.
Poppy turned onto Carmella’s street and parked by the curb. Getting out, she looked at the crushed flowers by the mailbox. That wasn’t the mailman accidently stepping on them. Besides, the mailmen around here drove trucks. It was obvious it was vandalism. In fact, to make a point, somebody had taken one of the flowers, pulled it out, and put it back in the flowerbed upside down so that the roots stuck up.
She made her way up the driveway and down the paver stone path to the door. After she rang the doorbell, Poppy waited…and waited. Nothing. Poppy called out to her friend, knocking at the door and ringing a bell a second time. “Carmella?”
Her friend, all perfectly coifed and bobbed, finally made it to the door. Her voice raised an octave as she talked to the dog. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was around back with Anastasia, so she could do her little doggy business. Wasn’t I, baby?”
“Right,” Poppy said as she walked into the grand foyer. She noticed the lack of pictures on the wall and on the mahogany table beside the door. There used to be pictures of the happy family. Now all that was left were the dog pictures and empty spaces.
“Come in, come in,” she said. “It was the weirdest thing. My car, it was gone! I’m not making this up. There was nothing in my driveway. So, as soon as I hung up the phone, I dialed the police. Only, when I go to look again, it was back. I’m not losing it. Am I? I mean, I’m positive it was gone. Who takes a car and then brings it back?” She started chattering faster and faster, trying to make sense of things.
“It is an odd thing. Did somebody attempt to steal the wrong car? Or does your ex still have a key? What about your son, does he have a key?” She was trying to deduce who else would have access quickly.
“I don’t they either of them does.” She shook her head. “You were right earlier, we should check for fingerprints. Or do you think the police should do it?”
“Well, there’s no crime if your car is parked in your driveway, and still undamaged. I’m not sure that they’ll set up an investigation for a car that went missing for only a few minutes.”
Carmella sighed. “I know I sound crazy. Please, I hope you believe me. Something happened. Somebody has an agenda. Or maybe Peter’s messing with me, living so
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