What Zoey Doesn't Know Page 3

and delivering it were gone. Margie would have to be disappointed in her anonymous benefactor for today.

  I made a mental note to go out early tomorrow and double my usual collection.

  Something stank. I sniffed myself and found a streak of calamine lotion across my arm. Wrinkling my nose, I washed it off at the sink, then refocused. My day wasn’t shot. Only derailed a bit. I could get back on track.

  I preheated the oven. Earlier, I’d thrown together a nice pastry crust, cut it into tiny circles, then lined a muffin tin with them. The tiny crusts, now baked and cooled, waited on the counter. I whisked some eggs, added a little cream, veggies, and cheese, then filled the pastry cups. The oven hadn’t finished preheating yet, so I made the beds, vacuumed, cleaned the bathrooms, dusted the furniture, and scrubbed away a new stain in the hallway carpet.

  When the oven beeped, I tossed the mini quiches inside and went back into Zoey’s room to consider my options.

  Zoey was a slob. I knew that when I moved in. I liked things neat. She’d told me several times that she appreciated all I do around here, but that she felt guilty when I cleaned her room.

  I could not let this stand, though. Clothes were everywhere. Dirty. Clean. Tried on, worn a few hours, then discarded. Her entire wardrobe was in a jumble on her bedroom floor. If I hung it all up, she’d probably be pissed.

  I tried to walk away. I really did. But damn, that girl was like a force of nature in her destruction. I gathered up the clothes, sorted them, and tossed the dark pile in the washing machine. While they ran, I washed her delicates in the bathroom sink and hung them over the shower rail to dry.

  When I was done, I checked the time. Ten minutes had past. I’d been taking my time, since the mini quiches needed fifteen minutes to bake, but I still had a few minutes left.

  I made myself a cream cheese and jelly sandwich and sat in the living room to watch a little television and relax.

  Relaxing was out of the question. To my horror, a special news report ran on the local station. The cameras went live to the outside of a Sausalito bank robbery in progress. The robber or robbers had hostages, though authorities weren’t sure about how many there were of either.

  I dropped my sandwich on the plate and wiped my fingers on a napkin. Zoey’s office was half a block from there.

  I flew through my closet and into a janitor’s closet at the bank, opening the door a crack to peek out at the lobby.

  Several customers lay flat on the floor, cringing in fear. Two men in dark ski masks paced, their weapons pointed at the ceiling.

  Because Zoey is entirely incapable of keeping out of trouble, her yellow beret shown like a beacon from among the hostages. That upped the difficulty level of taking these guys out without anybody noticing. Zoey would definitely notice if I set so much as a sneaker toe out there.

  As one of the robbers walked past my closet, I reached through and pulled him in. He was unprepared, blind in the dark, and slow. I was none of those things. I managed to knock the gun from his hand, spin him around, secure his hands with a length of twine I found on the shelf, and stuff a reasonably clean rag in his mouth. Then I turned his ski mask around so his eyes were covered. The golden rule of being part of the Hidden community was to stay hidden. I couldn’t have him looking at me when I opened the door and let some light in.

  I checked my watch. If I didn’t leave now, my mini quiches would burn.

  Someone, presumably the other bank robber, shouted in the lobby. The guy at my feet gave a muffled cry.

  “Shh.” I prodded him with my sneaker. “Don’t make another sound. Seriously, dude. You’re not in a position to make trouble for me.” I peeked out the door again and saw the other guy talking on his cell phone. “Don’t move.”

  I zipped back home, pulled out the tray of quiches, turned off the oven and went back to the bank. In the thirty seconds I’d been gone, the guy in the closet hadn’t moved. I wasn’t sure what to do. The second guy was out in the lobby, where I couldn’t get to him.

  I faced the back of the closet and shifted my eyes to see the rest of the bank’s closets and cupboards. I found a space on the other side of the lobby that was behind the mail slot on the wall near the bank robber, so I stepped into it. He paced a few more times, then stopped in front of me. A woman on the floor near his feet shifted, and I caught a flash of badge.

  Perfect.

  I tore back home and grabbed a bottle of vegetable oil, then came right back. The masked man still stood in front of the mail slot, blocking me from everyone else. Quiet as a swamp bogey tracking a flargsnozzle, I tipped the bottle and poured oil on the floor beneath him.

  He took one step, slipped, and landed on his ass. As I had hoped, the cop on the floor was quick to take over and, within seconds, had him subdued. I went back to the janitor’s closet and shoved the other guy out the door, then ran home, confident it was all over.

  As I finished my sandwich, I watched the live coverage on the news of the hostages—Zoey included—coming out of the bank.

  I took my plate into the kitchen to wash it. “Not bad for a lunch break.”

  Zoey’s laundry was done, so I tossed it into the dryer, then put her whites in to wash. I hummed while I washed the dishes and popped the cooled quiches into a pretty, napkin-lined basket. As I made my way through the backyard to drop off my gift at the mushroom house where Molly and the rest of the brownie family lived, a rustling in the bushes made me stop.

  What the hell? Nate Saunders from across the street stood with his arms in the air, feet planted in the ground. I mean, literally planted.

  I sighed. Dude thought he was a tree. Or more accurately, he thought he was a dryad.

  He wasn’t actually doing anything but standing with his arms in the air, so I had a few minutes before I had to deal with him. I continued on my way toward the back corner of the yard, weaving between the empty tents, fire pits, and chairs that had recently housed dozens of refugee monsters and mythical creatures.

  A puff of smoke rose in front of my face, and I stopped, glancing down. “Oh, hey, Bruce.”

  A green dragon, about the size of a collie, lay curled in the opening of a small canvas tent. He snorted a greeting at me, then sent a double spiral of smoke from his nostrils. When he growled, I understood the friendly question, even though I didn’t speak pigmy dragon. Molly spoke it, but there was no need to bother her. I knew what Bruce wanted.

  “No problem, buddy. The jewelry Zoey and Sara borrowed from you is safe and sound in my closet. I’m kind of busy at the moment.” I held up the basket of quiches. “If you’re sticking around awhile, can I bring it out to you later?”

  Bruce tipped his head, winked, then closed his eyes. Dragons slept a lot. He’d be fine until I had a chance to get his stuff for him, even if it took until tomorrow.

  At the giant mushroom, I bent and knocked on the tiny door. Eight-inch tall Molly popped her head out an upstairs window. She craned her neck to look up at me. “Maurice! I forgot you were coming. I will be right down.”

  She shut the window. While I waited for her to come out, the window opened again, and little Abby waved her chubby hand at me. I squatted so we’d be eye level. “Good afternoon, princess.” I bowed at the waist—awkward when one is already squatting.

  She giggled and stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Silly.” The word was garbled around her hand.

  Molly stepped out the front door, brushing wrinkles from her skirt. Hands on her hips, she squinted up at her daughter. “Close the window, please, Abby. It is still nap time!”

  Abby ducked inside and disappeared. Molly shook her head, stifling a grin.

  I placed the basket of quiches next to her. It was several times her size. “I brought you these for the bake sale. I hope they help.”

  She peered inside, inhaling the smell of cheese and pastry. “This is very kind of you, Maurice. I am certain they will help a great deal.” She shook her head, her face sad. “So many losses in the Hidden community. So many lost a
nd alone.”

  I rose to my full height and shoved my hands in my pockets. “If I can do anything else, let me know. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.”

  Molly smiled. Whenever she did that, all the tense muscles in my body relaxed.

  “You do so much, Maurice. Maybe take some time to relax tomorrow.” She turned toward the house and stopped. “The world can take care of itself for one day.”

  The world could do no such thing. I shuffled away, unhurried, until I was sure she couldn’t see me anymore. Molly and Zoey were close. If Molly thought I was up to something, she wouldn’t hesitate to bring it up to Zoey. Not because she’d rat me out, mind you. Molly simply wasn’t the sort of person who kept secrets, even if it was for a good reason.

  I raced to our house, gathered a tin of mints, the lotion, and the hairspray. When I got back to the spot where I’d seen Nate earlier, I thought he was gone. That would’ve been great. It would mean he got over thinking he was a tree and went home.

  Or that he was in full dryad mode and was a few yards away, dancing in his altogethers across the lawn.

  The weird part was that he’d left his socks on.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t the only weird part. I scouted around for his clothes. They were everywhere. Dude must’ve flung them as he took them off.

  One shoe lay in the dirt, the other in the crook of a tree. His shirt hung from a bush, and his jeans were in the neighbor’s yard.

  For the life of me, I could not find the dude’s underwear.

  I scratched my head. If I could get him dressed, he’d probably wonder why he was going commando, but probably wouldn’t suspect that somebody had taken them. That would be too bizarre. I decided it was safe enough for me to forget it.

  For a tree-man, he was pretty strong. It took me fifteen minutes to wrestle him to the ground and get his clothes on him. He moaned like I was killing him when I tied his shoes.

  “I can’t feel the earth!” He kicked, and his hard rubber sole connected with my jaw. “I’m suffocating!” His wailing hurt my head.

  But I managed to get him dressed and half carried, half dragged him around the house to the bushes along our long driveway. Mindful of possibly needing the supplies again, I was more frugal this time.

  First, a dab of calamine lotion on the back of his arm. Two strong mints went into his mouth. I gave him a small shove and, while he stumbled forward, I spritzed him with the hairspray.

  Nate fell to his knees, landing on all fours. “Ow. What the hell?”

  As his head came up to look around, I disappeared into the house.

  Zoey’s first load of laundry was done, so I scooped it into a basket and transferred the second load into the dryer. I was cutting it close. I may have been able to move fast, but food cooked at the same speed as it always did, no matter how fast I put it together, and laundry always took the same amount of time to dry.

  Physics.

  While I waited for the dryer to finish, I tossed together some olive oil, soy sauce, balsamic vinegar, minced garlic, and my secret seasonings and stuck the steaks in to marinade for a bit. I’d have preferred to leave them overnight, but Silas had kind of sprung it on me last minute.

  I whizzed around the kitchen throwing ingredients together, whipping fresh cream into stiff peaks, rolling potatoes in rock salt, shelling peas, and slicing strawberries. When Zoey was home, she liked to watch me cook, so I had to move slower. Nobody watched tonight, so I went at a quicker pace.

  The dryer buzzed as I pulled a lemon Bundt cake from the oven. The whipped cream and strawberries would go on it later, after the cake cooled.

  I checked the time. Zoey would be home in a few minutes. More than anything, I wanted to spend the next few minutes folding laundry, but I couldn’t let myself have that pleasure. If I folded it, she’d notice. Shoving all those clean clothes into the basket with the rest made me cringe. Sure, they were finally clean, but now they were all wrinkled. I toyed with the idea of ironing them, but time wasn’t on my side. Besides, she might notice.

  In her room, I replaced everything exactly as I’d found it on the floor. I folded my arms and stood back, concentrating. It didn’t look right. I pushed a pair of jeans over a bit with my toe. No. Still not right.

  The bathroom! I’d forgotten her delicates. The bathroom was a forest of lace and silk—and a few of those horrible cotton things she wore that I wished I could throw away behind her back. I plucked everything from where it hung and placed it in the basket as if I were some sort of farmer in an unmentionables orchard. Once I dumped everything in her room where I’d found it, I stepped back and nodded.

  Perfect. Nothing out of place.

  I zipped outside and got the barbecue started, then came inside, turned on the television, and plopped on the couch as Zoey’s car pulled in.

  “Hey, something smells good.” She dropped her purse on the table by the door, and placed her yellow beret on top of it. “What’s for dinner?”

  I stretched. “I thought we’d grill tonight.”

  “Awesome!” She smiled.

  “Because we have company tonight.” I gave her my best sorry face. “Silas is here for a visit.”

  Her smile faded. “Not so awesome.” Her steps were heavy as she clomped across the living room in her hot pink platform shoes. “I need to get changed. I spilled coffee on myself. Again.” She plucked at her pink polka dot shirt, then brushed the front of her yellow skirt. “And I think I got gum on me from the floor of the bank.”

  My jaw twitched. Keeping an innocent expression was an effort. “Did you trip or something?”

  She shook her head and her bouncy auburn curls went everywhere. “You won’t believe it when I tell you. I got caught in a bank robbery.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! Crazy day. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” She clomped into her room and shut the door. Not ten seconds later, the door flew open and she called down the hall. “Maurice, did you spray something in here when you made my bed?”

  I tried to be honest. “No. I didn’t spray anything.”

  She was quiet for a minute. “Huh. Well, it smells different in here. I don’t know. Never mind.” She shut the door.

  By the time she came out in her comfy—and secretly fresh-washed—jeans and Star Wars tee shirt, I was out back turning the potatoes in the coals and getting ready to drop three steaks to sizzle.

  Silas sat nearby in a folding canvas chair, swinging his feet and plowing through a bag of tortilla chips. At least outside his mess didn’t matter too much. The birds would clean it up in the morning. Still, I eyed the crumbs on the ground and wondered if I should at least sweep them into a pile so the birds could find them easier.

  Zoey pulled a chair closer to the barbecue. “So, these two masked guys walked into the bank today and pulled guns on us. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the news.”

  I poked a stake with my long fork. “I was kind of busy today.”

  Silas snorted and sprayed tortilla crumbs at me.

  Zoey smiled. “The house looks really nice. Clean.”

  I grinned back. “I got that stain out of the rug in the hallway.”

  “Awesome.” She settled into her chair and eyed Silas with suspicion. “How’d we get so lucky to have you visit, Silas?”

  He glanced at me poking at his steak, then to her while he decided whether to tell her after I’d asked him to keep quiet. The steak must’ve persuaded him.

  He shrugged. “Do I need a reason?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I guess not. Just—you know—try to keep your bad luck whammies to yourself.”

  As I flipped the first steak, something rustled in the bushes. Dread knotted my stomach. I’d forgotten something, but I couldn’t think what.

  A long, low moan from the bushes reminded me. Akhenaten—Gavin—burst into the open, dragging one leg and holding his arms in front of him as if he were in a Lon Chaney movie.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” I darted off t
o stop him, but the damage was done before I’d moved. He was already in our yard, moaning and being theatrical.

  Zoey caught up with me in seconds. “I didn’t know mummies were a real thing.” She held out her hand to shake. “I’m Zoey. Welcome!”

  It was my turn to moan. “What are you doing here? I just fixed you!”

  Gavin let out a high-pitched wail. “Wife won’t let me in. She locked all the doorsss.”

  Great. This was perfect. His patient wife chose now to stop being patient.

  Zoey patted him on the arm. “I’m so sorry. We have plenty of room for you here, and we’ll do everything we can to help you work things out with Mrs. Mummy.”

  I sighed. “Zoey, it’s not what you think.”

  Silas snickered. “Understatement.” He belched.

  “Just…everybody wait right here.” I zipped into the house and came back with my supplies. This required a little thought. Gavin’s situation was a little different from that of the earlier infected humans. His wife had been putting up with it for weeks.

  I shook my head. There was nothing I could do to erase his behavior from his wife’s mind. Best I could do was make sure he didn’t see me and add a monster sighting to his messed-up-psyche list. He was about to think he needed mental help as it was.

  Gavin groaned as I swiveled him by the elbows to face Zoey. “Akhenaten, take Zoey’s hands. Don’t look away from Zoey. Okay?”

  He nodded. “Yesss.”

  Zoey gave me a questioning look, then took the bandaged hands.

  I stepped behind Akhenaten/Gavin and dug around in the gauze until I found the end. As I unwrapped his face, Zoey gasped when she recognized our neighbor.

  Silas laughed and tossed the empty chip bag in the fire. “This’ll be great.”

  I dabbed Gavin’s cheek with the calamine lotion, popped two mints into his mouth, then spritzed the back of his head with hairspray. He inhaled sharply, then moved his head to look around. Zoey touched his face to stop him as I ducked behind the tent.

  “Zoey,” he said. “Hi.” She dropped her hand and let him look around to get his bearings. “What am I doing over here?”

  Zoey’s voice was soft and calming. She was good at that—even when she had no idea what was going on. “We’re not really sure, Gavin. But I think your wife is waiting for you. You should head home.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I should go home.” The confusion in his voice made me think of white rooms and padded cells. I felt bad for his wife.

  The minute he was gone, Zoey swung around to face me. I didn’t give her a chance to say anything. “I’ll get the plates!” I ran into the house.

  Zoey followed behind. I poured her a glass of wine and met her at the steps.

  She frowned. “Maurice, what are you not telling me? What happened around here today?”

  “Nothing special. Drink this.” I shoved the glass of wine in her hand.

  She took a sip. “I don’t believe you. Not for a second. Something happened today.”

  A gust of wind blew over us and from somewhere above—the gutter maybe—Nate Saunders’s missing