The Pink Sneakers Club: Sometime Around Midnight

Christian Bertoni

Description

40 years ago Samantha Hays was murdered. Now, she wants revenge!

Sujets

• Detective Stories
• Juvenilee Fiction
• Mysteries

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 22 août 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456610692
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Pink Sneakers Club:
 
Sometime
Around
Midnight
 
By Christian Bertoni
 


Copyright 2012 Christian Bertoni,
All rights reserved.
 
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1069-2
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 
Part 1: We’re baaack! miss us?
 


Natalie
Chapter 1
I guess I should probably introduce myself my name is Natalie Pelledario. I’m sure Randi has mentioned me. We’re . . . competitive by nature, have been ever since seventh grade, I think. Anyways I’m now part of the Pink Sneakers Club, which I think is pretty awesome.
Right now my GPA is a solid 5.8. By next year I plan to have it at a solid 6.0. Right now all my classes are AP, which carry extra weight giving me the opportunity to graduate with a 6.0 weighted. I also plan to be Valedictorian. Of course Randi will probably come in a close second or third, as always behind me.
You know a little about my family life, let me fill you in on the rest. I am one of five girls, six if you count my mom, that’s a lot of estrogen! My father worked at the chemical plant since he was in high school, so like forever. He pretty much ruled the household with an iron fist. Now, I want to be clear, he wasn’t abusive physically or emotionally. He was just very, very strict. When he came home from work he would sit at the dining room table, a whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other and read his paper. He would sit there all night long drinking and reading, undisturbed. On the weekends it was the same thing, except it would be from the time he got up till he went to bed. We weren’t allowed to be kids, as long as he was home. Let me explain, there was no fighting, no loud talking, you could only watch T.V. at a low volume and bedtime or lights out was eight o’clock on the dot. Unless he was out of town then we got to act like kids and my mom got to relax. When he was around she chain-smoked like crazy but when he wasn’t home she still smoked, just not as often. So it’s no wonder really that my mom hasn’t visited my dad in the hospital.
The best thing I remember most about my dad is he would take me out rock climbing. It turns out I took to the sport like a fish to water. My dad taught me every type of technique from top-roping and belaying to lead climbing including solo climbing, meaning no ropes, gear or safety harness of any kind.
He used to say, “if you move lighter, you move faster.” A key principle of speed climbing.
Anyways, I’m gonna change gears here. Deal with it. Lee is my older sister she’s 28. She spent four years in the Air Force and now lives somewhere in New Mexico on some Indian reservation. I think. I haven’t spoken to her in over four years.
Norma is 25; we suspect she’s got mental problems although she’s never been diagnosed. We believe she’s either Bi-polar or schizophrenic. I’m going for just plain crazy. When she talks to you she’s usually shouting, and half the time she doesn’t even make any sense. When she was 22 she moved off to New York and took a job working at some diner. After a couple of months she returned home claiming that one night four guys jumped her and raped her. At first we were floored. I mean you hear about it happening to other people and you see it on T.V. but you never expect it to happen to someone you know. Well, long story short we contacted the police, talked to people she had worked with and nobody had heard of any such thing happening to her.
Right now she’s living with us and she’s a pain in the ass. I don’t like her very much. Is that wrong? Whatever, don’t judge!
Then we come to Joan. She’s 20, her and I are probably the closest alike or at least we were. She had a full ride to Yale. Yale! Her freshmen year she got kicked out for missing or failing too many classes -- partying too much. Now she’s living with some truck stop cook named P.J. Gohn. P.J. really? What kinda name is that for a guy? They’re engaged right now and living in an old converted school bus. Don’t ask I haven’t seen it yet. Been busy . . . OMG . . . I just got it . . . if my sister marries P.J. she’ll be Joan Gohn. How funny.
That brings me to my younger siblings, Brenda is 15 she reminds me a little of Kaye. Tough, hard, and a little angry.
Julie is 13 and a little uncontrollable, loud and obnoxious as hell. Runs around a lot yelling and basically bugging the hell outta everyone. She’s also been known to steal a few cigarettes from mom and smoke. She’s not very good at it. It’s kinda funny watching her try to hold a cigarette between her stubby little fingers. Julie’s the chubby one in our family, although Norma is a close second. In case you were wondering.
My mom, Maxine, is very thin with shoulder length jet-black hair with lots and lots of gray in them. She’s 52 years old but I swear with all the drinking and smoking, she looks almost 60. It’s pretty sad.
 


Deirdre
Chapter 2
“Scalpel.” Natalie placed it in my gloved hand, “tweezers.” I felt just like a real surgeon. Through the painters mask I said, “okay, I need someone to hold the flap back a little.” I looked up and nobody seemed to be rushing in to help. “Guys I can’t do everything. A little help.” Again nobody moved. “Okay fine, Kaye hold the flap back.”
Kaye huffed. “Fine. But I want to go on record as saying this is really gross.”
While I’m cutting away at the skin and fur let me update you a little on what’s happened in the last week or so. Two days ago we all went to a ceremony in our honor held at the Convention Center. It was great! Even the President of the United States showed up after hearing about what we did! The reception was a lot of fun, music, dancing, and food. There must have been about 4,000 plus people in attendance. The President gave each of us; wait for it; the Presidential Medal of Freedom! It’s the highest civilian award in the U.S. Here’s what the President said: “Actions above and beyond the call of duty; and exhibiting exceptional courage, extraordinary decisiveness and presence of mind; or an unusual swiftness of action, regardless of his or her personal safety, in an attempt to save or protect human life.” Randi recorded it on her iPhone and sent each of us a copy.
Now, if you’ve never seen the Presidential Medal of Freedom it’s quite impressive. The badge is in the form of a gold star with white enamel, with a red enamel pentagon behind it. The central disc bears thirteen gold stars on a blue enamel background within a gold ring. Golden Bald Eagles with spread wings stand between the points of the star and it comes with a blue ribbon with white edge stripes.
Even my parents showed up, a little perplexed about the whole affair, but hey, at least they showed. And I think they may have even had fun. I mean they really didn’t dance or anything but they did sort of socialize with people . . . when people came over to talk to them that is. My mom and I are working on our relationship. She’s trying.
Right now we’re renting a house until the workers fix ours. They said it should take a couple of months. So we actually moved a couple of blocks from Randi.
It’s a nice house and little beneath my parents taste since they seem to have a flare for the ostentatious. I actually like it a little more than my current house. It seems less cold. If that makes any sense.
When you walk in, to your right is a great big living room that opens into the kitchen. In the center of the living area is a slightly curved staircase with a wooden banister. On the right side of the staircase heading towards the kitchen is a door that leads to the basement. The kitchen itself is quite modernized with the usual amenities: island, stainless steel refrigerator, six-burner stove, dual oven and a large breakfast area. Off the kitchen is the dining room and off of that is a formal living room.
Down the hall from the living room is a full bathroom with bathtub and shower, a master bedroom also with a full bath and a study. Upstairs has one full bathroom, my room, and a guest room. Backyard has a large pool with a patio.
Changing the subject, because I don’t want to talk about the house anymore. Since we’ve become somewhat . . . famous per se, people have been asking us to solve things for them. Things like Randi’s neighbor from across the street asking us to find her little black dog. I think she said the dog’s name was Smokee I’m not sure, we’re still looking for the dog. Right now we have another case, Randi’s next door neighbor, Mrs. Myers, has hired us to find out what happened to her cat. I mean she knows it’s dead but she wants us to find out who killed her cat. So that’s what we’re doing right now, understanding how the cat died.
“Kaye, pull the flap back a little.”
I cut a piece of its fur from the top of its head to reveal the crushed skull.
“Oh God I think I’m gonna puke.” Natalie said.
“Don’t! If you throw up I’m going to throw up, and I don’t feel like throwing up.” Randi said.
“Eww. Well no one feels like throwing up.” Caren said.
“See,” I said examining the skull, “somebody crushed its head in. See the bone fragments? Somebody hit it either with a brick or a rock but somebody purposely killed this cat.”
“Man that sucks.” Kaye chimed in.
I looked over at Randi who looked worried, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bull.” Kaye said. “What’re you thinking?”
“Nothing. Just processing that’s all. Let’s go give Mrs. Myers the bad news.”
We wrapped the body up in plastic bag then gently placed it in a trash bag and left Randi’s backyard.
Randi’s mother was in the kitchen making lunch when we walked in, “mom we’re going over to Mrs. Myers.”
“What did you guys find out?”
Natalie answered, “somebody killed it.”
“Really? Too bad.