Page 42 of Not For Keeps
She gasps. “Mateo!”
I grin. “Let’s gather the evidence and crack the case!”
We spend the next hour going through “clues” to crack that case. Muddy footprints made with water and chalk, a bite mark in a sugar cookie I definitely took a nibble out of earlier, and a suspicious glove we found under the patio table. Maya’s convinced the thief is someone close to us. “It’s always the ones you least suspect,” she says, squinting through her magnifying glass.
We’re mid-search when the back gate creaks open.
“Buenas noches,” Hilda calls, her voice warm.
Maya gasps and bolts across the yard. “Hildaaaaaa!”
They meet in a hug that almost knocks Hilda backward. I walk over, smiling as Hilda steadies her tote bag full of snacks, pajamas, and definitely a storybook or two.
“You sure you’re good with her tonight?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She pats my arm. “Please. I live for these sleepovers. We’re doing movie night, popcorn, and a couple of Cam Jansen books.”
“Cam Jansen!” Maya practically vibrates with excitement. “I want the haunted carnival one.”
“Packed and ready,” Hilda says with a wink.
I lean down to kiss Maya’s forehead. “Okay, mija. Be good. No scaring Hilda with crime scenes.”
“Only happy mysteries,” Maya says solemnly.
I grin. “Good girl.”
The second Hilda and Maya pull out of the driveway, my phone buzzes.
Anna
We’re two minutes away. I expect wine and popcorn to be ready.
Mariana
Also…is your door unlocked or are we breaking in again?
Analyse
It’s unlocked. But by all means, live out your little breaking and entering fantasy.
Mariana
I’d need Seba for that.
Anna
Yesss girl.
Analyse
Mari! TOO FAR!
Twominutes later, the front door swings open. Anna walks in first, arms full—one hand holding a bottle of red wine, the other clutching a jumbo-sized bag of popcorn. Mariana follows behind her with a tote bag that’s definitely filled with snacks. We’re all wearing our vintage scream sweatshirts—the faded black ones with Billy Loomis on the front, one finger raised to his lips and the other hand gripping a knife. That man was so damn hot. Psychotic? Absolutely. But hot. And I will not be taking questions at this time.
Anna drops everything on the coffee table and flops onto the couch with a sigh. “Why are we not married to murderers who look like Skeet Ulrich in 1996?”
Mariana snorts. “Well firstly, I think Seba might have a problem with that. And secondly, jail is apparently frowned upon.”
