Mustard on Top

by Wanda Degolier

  Moe pursed his lips and stared at her as if she were a science experiment. “You two talk. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “We have plans tonight. Out-of-state relatives.” She smiled through her lie. “Tomorrow evening, perhaps?”

  Moe cleared his throat. “All right. Tomorrow evening.”

  “Thank you for your patience.” Agatha stood and walked to the door. “The flowers are lovely.”

  *****

  “Ben?” Theo’s muffled voice sounded concerned.

  “Yes?” Ben leaned over the Corvette’s engine. A spotlight to his left created a cascade of sparkling reflections. Beneath the car, Theo lay on a creeper. Ben spied bits of his son through gaps in the engine. A wrench appeared next to the air filter.

  “Why don’t you ask Mom out?” Theo asked.

  Ben coughed. The question took him by surprise. Helen was beautiful, smart, loyal, kind, loving, genuine, and creative. She’d be a wonderful partner; she deserved better than him.

  The wrench disappeared and Theo repositioned himself. His face appeared between the intake manifold and the radiator. He wanted an answer.

  “I’m leaving in a few days.”

  “Right.” Theo sounded disappointed.

  Ben agreed. He didn’t’ want to go home. He’d already wrangling for additional time off, but hadn’t been able to get his caseload covered.

  “I wonder if she’s been waiting for you all these years.”

  Morbid curiosity struck Ben. “Why would you say that?”

  “She never dates.”

  Ben swallowed. Guilt weighed heavy in his chest. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Maybe she believed you’d come back.”

  The ache in Ben’s chest grew worse. Theo had obviously assumed he and Helen had been a couple when he’d ‘disappeared.’ “A lot of single parents don’t want to introduce different people to their kids,” he offered. He wondered if Theo remembered Helen’s husband and tried to recall if she’d given him a timeline. Maybe Theo had simply been too young.

  “She should date,” Theo said.

  Ben hadn’t spent much time around teenagers, but he thought Theo possessed emotional maturity. At least Theo was more mature than Ben had been at the same age.

  “What’s going on between your mom and Seth?” The idea of Helen and Seth together gave Ben a sour stomach, but Seth had alluded to their having a relationship more than once. Ben didn’t like the way Seth’s gaze followed Helen around while she was working.

  “Seth’s got a few loose wires. My mom’s too level headed for that.”

  “Why does she let him hang around Hot Diggitys all the time?”

  “She’s just nice.”

  Ben envisioned the tanned, muscular actor. He hoped Helen wasn’t interested. “When are they going skydiving?”

  “After the bet. I think it would be kind of cool if you two got together. I feel the vibes between you.”

  Again, Ben coughed. He didn’t want to confirm Theo’s feelings nor dash his hopes. “The truth is, any man would be lucky to be with your mother.”

  “She deserves someone good.” Theo rolled from under the car. “Let’s try starting this baby up?”

  Ben lowered the hood as Theo slid into the driver’s seat. A twist of Theo’s wrist and the V-8 engine roared to life.

  Theo’s whoop echoed in the garage. “We did it, Dad, we did it!”

  Dad. Theo had called him Dad. Ben wanted to jump for joy.

  The garage door swung open, and Helen stepped inside. “Matty is running?”

  Theo whooped.

  The huge smile on her face tugged at Ben’s overflowing heart, he caught Helen up in his arms and spun. They smiled at each other and it happened, he kissed her, right there in front of Theo. More surprisingly, she kissed him back. The kiss was more than friendly, but less than lovers.

  Laughing, Helen leaned back in his arms and looked into his face. “You’re awfully boisterous.”

  “He called me Dad,” Ben whispered.

  “Congratulations. Now let me go!” Helen squirmed, but her eyes radiated warmth.

  Against his will, Ben set Helen free. After holding her in his arms and kissing her, he wanted more.

  ****

  Two days marched by. Between home repairs, school, and Hot Diggitys, Helen scarcely had time to breathe. One area of her world had brightened however; Ben seemed to be having a positive effect on Theo. Helen had even overheard them talking about college.

  Helen returned home after a chemistry lab and pulled to a stop in front of her house. The familiar thwack of Ben’s hammer reverberated, and Helen scanned her roof, but didn’t see Ben. The contrast between the worn shingles, mottled with moss, and the sparkly new shingles was startling. The hammering stopped, and Ben’s head poked above the roofline while he gathered several shingles.

  Every time Helen saw Ben, his joyous outburst upon hearing Theo call him Dad replayed in her mind. So did the memory of Ben’s strong arms as he lifted her off the floor and swung her in a circle before kissing her. A reluctant smile formed on Helen’s lips as she climbed from the car.

  The afternoon was cloudless, and Helen tilted her face to the sky, basking in the sunshine. The smack of Ben’s hammer broke her reverie. Guilt nagged at her. She’d done little to bring about her home improvements. She’d started up her path when Ben called, “Hello.”

  Perched on the peak of the roof, he was framed by blue skies. A broad smile lit his face, and against her will, a tingle of excitement ran up Helen’s spine.

  “I’m in the mood for Mexican food tonight. Want to go out for dinner later?” she asked. “My treat.”

  “Sure, but I get to pay,” Ben said.

  “I pay or you’re uninvited.”

  “If those are my only choices, I’ll go. Thank you.” Ben pushed the hammer into his tool belt and scooted toward the ladder. “Have you talked to Humphrey?” Ben referred to the victim of the hot-dog-Seth incident. Despite advising Helen not visit Humphrey without an attorney present, she had. Frequently. Ben came down the ladder.

  “Actually I did. He’s not going to press charges.” Helen waited as Ben stepped off the bottom rung. Humphrey had twelve stitches: four from the hot dog, eight from Seth.

  “Press charges? You mean against Seth?”

  “No charges against anyone.”

  “What were his exact words?”

  Clearly, Ben wanted to judge Humphrey’s words for himself. The fact he didn’t trust her to interpret the man, annoyed her. “I don’t recall.”

  “You realize he can’t press charges against you. You didn’t break any laws, but he can sue you in civil court.”

  “That’s a comforting thought, but he’s not suing me or pressing charges or anything.”

  Ben squinted at her, the skepticism apparent on his face. “How’d you get him to agree to that?”

  Helen shrugged. “Not everyone sues every time something goes wrong you know.”

  “Seth beat him to a bloody pulp. He deserves to be charged. What did Humphrey say that made you think he didn’t intend to charge Seth?”

  Helen frowned. ”He said he planned to ‘let bygones be bygones.’ He’s new in town and said he doesn’t want to make enemies. To be honest, I think Seth scares him, and he’d rather wash his hands of the whole mess.”

  “Now that I can believe.”

  “I offered him a lifetime supply of hot dogs to make up for the mishap.”

  “And he agreed to that?”

  “Agreed to what?” Ben’s questions grated on her nerves. “We didn’t strike a deal. I’m giving them to him because my hot dog sliced his head open, not to get out of a lawsuit.”

  “That’s like an admission of guilt.” Ben’s features pinched.

  “I am guilty. Jeez, Ben. You want me to act like Hot Diggitys had nothing to do with his injuries? That would be lying.”

  Ben clenched his jaw then exhaled. “You’re right, you’re right. I live in a different world,
but I wish Humphrey stand up to Seth.”

  “I’m pretty sure Seth thought he was protecting me. I’m guessing he thought Humphrey threw me down, when all he did was trip.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “I agree.”

  Ben features darkened. “Have you talked to Seth?”

  “He hasn’t been back to Hot Diggitys since the incident.”

  “He hasn’t called you or anything?”

  Ben’s tone sounded concerned, but the edginess, made her wonder if Ben wasn’t jealous. “No.”

  Ben nodded then smiled as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “By the way, Agatha’s car was towed back to her house today. I thought you’d want to know.”

  Worry pricked Helen’s senses as she glanced toward Agatha’s property. Agatha’s pink Mercedes, usually parked in the garage, was at the curb. “Do you know if she’s okay?”

  “I’ve seen her and she seems fine,” Ben added.

  “I’m going to go talk to her.”

  “I’ll keep working. Can you wait until it’s dark for dinner? I don’t want to waste the sunlight.”

  “Sure.” As Helen walked toward Agatha’s house, she felt Ben watching her. Self-conscious, she turned and found him standing where she’d left him. “Bye.”

  Ben held up a hand, pivoted on his heel, and headed for the ladder.

  Helen circled the pink Mercedes. The front grill was dented in the center and the hood crumpled. The Mercedes hood ornament teetered sideways. Her concern growing, Helen realized she hadn’t spoken with her neighbor the last few days. She walked to the door and knocked. Agatha opened the door and stuck her head out. “Hello Helen. What can I do for you?”

  Normally, Agatha invited Helen in and accosted her with business advice. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure.” Agatha sounded chipper.

  “Did you get into an accident?” Helen gestured toward the Mercedes.

  “A little fender bender. Nobody got hurt.”

  “Why are you hiding behind the door?”

  Agatha squeezed herself through the door’s opening to stand on the porch. She closed the door behind her. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your DerFoodle Dog.”

  “Don’t change the subject. How’d you get into an accident?”

  “The DerFoodle is beginning to outsell all the other—”

  “Agatha,” Helen interrupted. “What happened to your car?”

  Agatha sighed. “The brakes failed.”

  “What? Your car is less than a year old.”

  “It’s a shame, I agree. The dealership is sending a tow truck.”

  “That’s scary.” Helen couldn’t believe anything of Agatha’s would have the gall to fail. “So what happened?”

  “Luckily I wasn’t going very fast. I swerved to miss a car and hit a tree instead,” Agatha said. “I uprooted the poor thing.”

  “How awful.”

  “The worst part is, I got my first moving violation.” Agatha scowled. “If I can prove the problem was a mechanical, the officer said I could get the ticket reversed.”

  “Ben said he your car was towed here?”

  “I wish I’d thought of going straight to the dealership, but I didn’t.”

  From the porch, Helen scrutinized the gleaming, cotton-candy-pink Mercedes.

  “How’s the kitchen coming along?” Agatha asked. “I’ve seen deliveries.”

  “The kitchen is incredible,” Helen said absently. Agatha was acting out of character and withholding information. “What’s going on, Agatha?”

  Agatha crossed her arms under her chest. “Everything is fine.”

  “Come on, Agatha. I can tell you’re lying.”

  Agatha’s shoulders drooped. “If you must know, Jeremy is back.”

  A headache started behind Helen’s eyes and she squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Oh no. Is he strung out?”

  “He says he’s not, but I don’t believe him.”

  “Is he the one who wrecked your car?”

  “My brakes failed.” Agatha planted a fist on her hip.

  “You don’t want to talk about it.”

  “No, I don’t. So about the DerFoodles—”

  “Actually Agatha, can we talk later? I planned to help Ben with the roof.”

  Agatha expelled a breath. “Okay. Go on.”

  Chapter 6

  Agatha sat at her vanity and brushed her long, wavy, silver-blonde hair. Alfred had always liked her hair. Her old, clear, blue eyes still had some shine and for the first time in her life, she compared favorably against her peers. As a child and teen, she’d been a lanky bookworm. Agatha had never had the healthy glow of a beautiful tan, and when she went outside, she dutifully protected herself with sun-block.

  Now, at a time in her life when she least expected it, she felt handsome. “Good for you,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. A boost of confidence would help her in the game she and Moe were playing.

  Jeremy had, no doubt, told Moe she had money. Did Moe really think he’d lure her into giving away her savings? She’d never become an iconic, little old lady who’d been ripped off. No, she had other plans like running her own sting operation. Her days of paying off men like Moe were over.

  Agatha pulled on a white blouse and wrapped a thin, deep-purple scarf around her neck. The purple contrasted with the silver of her hair and her light skin drawing attention to her face. She stepped into pressed, size-ten, black slacks. Thanks to walking a two-mile loop each day and meticulous eating choices, she’d been the same size for thirty years. Pecking through her jewelry, she settled on a pair of pearl, stud earrings. Satisfied, she checked the clock. Moe should arrive in ten minutes.

  In the hallway, she stopped at Jeremy’s door. He was inside, probably sleeping or perhaps seething in anger. She didn’t believe he would have cut her car’s break lines if he’d been clean. To confront him in his state of mind would get her nowhere. One way or another, things would be over soon. She was too old and too cantankerous to put up with Moe or Jeremy. If she played her cards right, Moe would be behind bars and Jeremy would be in rehab.

  Her experience dictated men like Moe were slippery. The police would be ineffective until she had the right evidence.

  The ringing doorbell pulled Agatha from her mental tug-of-war. She went to the front door, took a deep breath, and, plastering a smile on her face, greeted Moe. His eyes widened as if pleasantly surprised, and Agatha grinned inwardly.

  Moe wore a tailored sport coat, which fit his broad shoulders and relatively narrow waist. He was handsome for an older man in a rogue sort of way. “My, isn’t it a lovely evening?” Agatha asked.

  “Not as lovely as the sight before me. Are you ready?”

  “One moment.” Agatha picked up her small, black clutch.

  “Can I lead you?” Moe offered his arm.

  “Oh you.” Agatha giggled like a schoolgirl and weaved her hand around his unnervingly solid arm. Moe led her to a Lincoln Continental, and before stepping in she glanced toward Helen’s house. She was relieved Helen and Ben were out of view. When Moe followed her gaze, she asked, “They are making a racket aren’t they?”

  “Indeed.”

  Moe opened the back door, and Agatha gazed at him quizzically.

  “We have a driver for the evening,” he announced.

  Agatha hinged at the waist and peered in the front passenger window. The driver gave her a nod. Agatha climbed in and, sitting stiffly, grasped her clutch in both hands. She would have preferred Moe to be distracted by driving. “You sounded so mysterious on the phone. What are our plans for the evening?” she asked got in.

  Moe smiled. “I thought we’d have dinner at MaGilicutty’s then take a walk along the beach at sunset. After, if you’d like, there’s a late-night showing of Indiscreet at the Nalley Theatre Playhouse.”

  “Sounds terrific.” She loved the theatre and wondered if Moe had guessed or somehow knew that fact.

  “I have you peg
ged as an avid reader. Am I right?” Moe asked.

  “You are. I’m impressed. How’d you draw that conclusion?”

  “Ah, tricks of the trade.”

  Agatha thought for a moment. “Moe, what trade are you in exactly?”

  Moe cleared his throat. “I guess you could call me a venture capitalist.”

  “Venture capitalist,” Agatha repeated. “So you loan money to aspiring entrepreneurs. Why would you be working with my son?”

  Moe smiled sadly. “Simple business arrangement. I loaned him money, and now I’m trying to collect.”

  “You loaned him money because Jeremy was planning on starting a business? Jeremy hasn’t told me, what business did he start with your money?”

  A big man like Moe looked comical squirming in his seat. When he glanced out the window, Agatha slid her hand in her clutch and grasped the little, metal device. Moe looked back to her before she could hide it.

  “Something to do with pharmaceuticals, I don’t recall the details exactly. Jeremy could tell you more.”

  “What a pity. I would have enjoyed seeing Jeremy’s business plan, although he’s never struck me as ambitious.” Agatha fell quiet. Moe’s posture was casual enough, but the muscles in his jaw worked. Her research on loan sharks and con artists had paid off.

  With the bug in her hand, she rotated toward him while dropping it on the floor. She shifted her feet, kicking the bug under the passenger’s seat. A bug was good, but video was better, and while the miniscule webcam in her brooch would capture their conversation and his image, she wanted more. “Did you threaten to kill Jeremy?”

  Moe flinched. “Of course not.”

  “Why do you think Jeremy would make such an accusation?”

  “I’m sure you know Jeremy better than I do.” Several seconds lapsed. “In my dealings with him, I began to wonder… I hate to say this, but I think he may use drugs. Obviously had I realized his problem up front, I never would have done business with him.”