Where's Hansel and Gretel's Gingerbread House?: A Gabby Grimm Fairy Tale Mystery #2 by Sara M. Barton Page A

house. The
structural differences between the two cookie concoctions were
striking. Half a dozen agents peppered us with questions,
especially after they saw the documents Nettie and I had concealed
in the fake snow. I handed over the Tracfone I had used to
photograph them. Back and forth, the conversation flew. An hour and
a half later, we wrapped things up in the conference room. By the
time we were done laying our cards on the table, the roof of the
original gingerbread house had been carefully cut away, Annette had
pointed out the architectural and construction features, and the
assistant special agent-in-charge, Georgia Dumont, had called
Will’s boss in New York, to coordinate the game plan. Another half
an hour passed before she got a call back that two agents were on
their way to collect Annette and return her to Manhattan, where she
would work with the field office there to develop evidence for the
case.
    Apparently Will made good use of his time
after leaving us. He was in New Jersey by the time his boss caught
up with him, but he managed to join his colleagues en route, and
when the new agents walked into the conference room, he was them.
He left it to them to break the news to the supposedly shocked
Frist and Company employ that he was not Joe Fortuna. The look on
Annette’s face, with all its sadness and disappointment, was
perfect. No reason the FBI needed to know it was because the lovers
would not be able to resume their affair until after the case
wrapped up, right? Besides, I actually was beginning to think that
maybe it was a good thing they had to cool it down. There was so
obviously a powerful spark between them. You could almost see the
sizzle of desire every time their eyes met. It would take a fire
brigade to put that blaze out.
    Just before six, I walked with my cousin out
of the FBI office and down to the street, where the two agents were
waiting with the car that would take her to the city.
    “Oh! I left my suitcase at Black Forest
Farm,” she moaned. I put a protective arm around her and squeezed
her shoulder. “And my car....”
    “Not to worry. If you can wait until Friday,
I’ll drive it down, with the suitcase.” I was beginning to feel
like I spent my days and nights cruising on I-87. “You call me if
you need anything. Anything at all, Nettie.”
    “She’ll be in good hands, Deputy Grimm,”
Franklin, the senior agent promised.
    “We’ve got this. You can stand down,” said
Genovese, the younger agent, giving me a little attitude to let me
know this was now a federal case and I wasn’t invited to the
party.
    “You make sure she stays safe, boys.” I gave
them my best “don’t even think about messing with me” look as the
door shut on Annette in the back seat. “I don’t want any mistakes.
I don’t want any screw-ups. You make your bones some other way, but
you do not risk my cousin’s safety. Are we clear on that?”
    “Just who do you think....” said the snotty
little junior G-man. His partner cut him off.
    “Crystal, ma’am. You have a nice day.”
    “Drive safely. Bring her back in one piece,”
I instructed them in my most motherly voice. Genovese gave me a big
huff-and-puff, like he was going to blow my house of sticks down. I
guessed he was still be a probie, in his first year as an agent,
practicing all those neat little tricks they teach at the academy
in Quantico. Franklin tried to hide his smirk, but as soon as his
partner was climbing into the passenger seat, he gave me a wink. I
rolled my eyes upward and feigned a great sigh while pretending to
burp a baby. Franklin had my condolences on working with such an
unseasoned horse’s ass. We’ve all been there and we know what it’s
like to be stuck with the smart ass kid in need of an attitude
adjustment. We also know that the new members of the team sometimes
are so ambitious, they take short cuts and risks that more seasoned
law enforcement officers avoid. I wasn’t about to let that little
Twinkie