Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

  “How many bags did you bring?”

  “Just a few.”

  Did Grady help you pack? Oh, shut up, I told myself.

  We waited at the baggage carousel for her luggage. Even her suitcases were different. She’d traded in the matching green leather set for bright pink bags with zebra striped trim. I checked the tags twice to make sure they were hers, and Camden and I hauled everything out to the Fury.

  She patted the hood. “Davey, you still have Henry’s old Plymouth. What a treat.”

  “Can’t do without it. Hop up front, Mom. It’ll take us about thirty minutes to get home.”

  Parkland was ready for Christmas. Mom admired the silver bells, golden stars, and large plastic ornaments dangling from every telephone pole and street lamp. I drove down Main Street so she could see the shops outlined in white lights and the store displays featuring electronic elves and carolers. She was equally taken with 302 Grace all decked out in holiday finery. “What a lovely old house,” she said.

  We’d done our best to straighten up the place, but despite our efforts, it still looked like bachelor pad meets college dorm. Mom smiled and made nice comments about how warm and welcoming everything looked.

  “It smells so good in here, cinnamon and evergreen. And look at your tree!” She admired the candy canes, the strings of popcorn and cranberries, and the paper chains that somehow had escaped Cindy’s reign of destruction. “Such nice old-fashioned decorations. Did you boys bake the gingerbread men?”

  “We tried to help Kary until she ran us out of the kitchen. She let us put the eyes in, though.”

  She eyed the small stack of presents under the tree. “I haven’t done my shopping yet. I thought I’d wait and see what everyone would like.”

  It took me a moment to process this. Mom always had the Christmas shopping done months before, warning me upon pain of death not to snoop in closets and under the beds. “Well, there are loads of places to shop in Parkland.”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure there’s a giant pile of presents by Christmas Eve.”

  Camden and I heaved her suitcases up to the second floor and put them in one of the empty rooms. Camden had pulled out the best cream-colored towels, sheets, and bedspread. I’d put a big red poinsettia on the bureau.

  Mom set her pocketbook next to the flowers. “This is beautiful.”

  Camden opened the adjoining bathroom door. “You have your own bathroom, Sophia, and here’s the closet. If you get cold, there are some extra blankets right here on the top shelf.”

  “Thank you. If you boys will excuse me, I’m going to freshen up a little.”

  We went downstairs to the kitchen. Camden took a large plastic cup from the drain board and filled it with ice. He poured in some tea.

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “I’m floored. She looks like—I don’t know.”

  “She looks fantastic.”

  “Yes, but, where’s my mom? I know women go through the change, but this is ridiculous. I mean, she looks—”

  “Sexy?”

  “Yes, damn it. It’s freaking me out.”

  “And?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Who’s Grady?”

  “She’s thinking of him that hard?”

  “No, you are.”

  I reached in the fridge for a cola. “He’s this guy she’s been seeing for about a year. He lives in the same apartment building. I guess I get tired of hearing about him.” I sat down at the counter. “I met him once. He’s a real milksop. My dad was all man, you know? Hunting, fishing, drinking, sports. Grady’s a creampuff. I could mush him under one thumb.”

  “But you wouldn’t want your mom to sit at home alone all the time.”

  “No. I’m glad she has someone her age to talk to. He’s just—” How to explain it? “He’s just in my dad’s place. It was always Sophia and Henry, and now there’s this stranger, this weak, mealy-mouthed stranger making time with my mom.” I took a big drink. “There, I said it, and I’m proud.”

  “You going to tell her how you feel?”

  “No, thanks, doctor. I believe our time is up.”

  “You going to tell her how you feel about Kary?”

  “An even bigger no. She’ll want to fix things. I’m warning you now. That’s all she does.”

  “So do you.”

  “What?”

  “Want to fix things.”

  “No, I want to find things. There’s a difference.”

  He looked at me, eyebrows up. I started to tell him how I’d like to fix him when Mom came into the kitchen carrying a newspaper. I couldn’t get over her new look.

  “So, Mom, what made you decide to change your style?”

  “It’s wild, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure about the leopard print, but now I love it. I think I’ll make it my signature look.”

  Sophia Randall, Leopard Woman. “Okay.”

  “And I never realized how much fun it is being a redhead. You ought to try it.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but she had on gold hoops and a gold cuff bracelet. What happened to the little pearl earrings and the modest watch?

  Steady, I told myself. She’s going through a phase, that’s all.

  She toured the kitchen. “This is charming. I love the green and white and all the little farm touches.” She admired the cow-shaped clock and chicken dishcloths, the salt and peppershakers shaped like eggs with legs. Then she peered out the bay window at the backyard. “And this is a wonderful view.”

  “Would you like something to eat?” Camden asked.

  “No, dear, I had a snack on the plane. Now, don’t feel you have to entertain me.” She opened the paper. “I’ve been looking through the paper, and there’s a craft and fashion show at your memorial auditorium. You can drop me off, or I can call a taxi.”

  At least this part of my mom was the same, always taking charge. “I’d be happy to take you,” I said.

  “Davey, I know you don’t want to wade through all that. I’ll be fine on my own. You have work to do, don’t you?”

  “Maybe Kary would like to go,” Camden said.

  I thought at first he’d lost his mind, but then reconsidered. What better way for Mom to become acquainted with Kary? They were going to be in the house together the whole holiday, and it was going to be obvious how I felt about Kary.

  “That’s a great idea,” I said. “Mom, Kary will be home in a little while, and I’ll take both of you to the show.”

  She refolded the paper. “Good. Now what have you boys been up to lately?”

  I’d told Mom an abbreviated version of my last case. I’d left out the parts about fighting with a deranged woman who wanted to skewer me with a boat hook and jumping into a freezing lake to save Camden from drowning.

  “Just helping people find things, Mom.”

  “Are you on a case now?”

  “I’m trying to find some missing jewelry.” I didn’t say, and I’m going to solve Jared’s murder.

  “What about you, Camden? I believe David told me you worked at a clothing store?”

  “Yes. Tamara’s Boutique.”

  “Oh, that sounds like my kind of shop.”

  “It is. Tamara makes a lot of the dresses herself.”

  “That can’t be very exciting for a young man. Or are you into fashion?”

  Camden reached for the sugar bowl. “It isn’t exciting. That’s why I like it.”

  I explained the situation. “Camden doesn’t need any extra vibes during the day.”

  “Oh, that’s right. David told me you were psychic. I knew that. So you’re saying the dress shop is a calm environment?”

  He spooned sugar into his already sweet tea. “Tamara gets about three customers a day.”


  “I have to confess I never put too much stock into psychic pronouncements.”

  “That’s okay. Sometimes I don’t believe what I see, either.”

  I stood up. “I’m about to make a psychic pronouncement.”

  Mom looked surprised. “You are?”

  “I predict that Kary will walk in the door in about five minutes.”

  Camden grinned. “Don’t let him fool you, Sophia. Kary’s nearly always home by four.”

  Kary was home by four. I met her at the front door. “Come meet my mother.”

  When I introduced her, the two women beamed at each other in instant friendship.

  “Mom wants to go to the craft and fashion show this afternoon, Kary. Would you like to join her?”

  “That would be perfect. I’ve got a few more things on my Christmas list.”

  “Good,” Mom said. “Let me get my pocketbook, and I’ll be ready.”

  As soon as Mom had gone upstairs, Kary said, “Your mother is not at all what I expected.”

  “Me, either.”

  “She looks like she just stepped out of Marie Claire magazine. What do you mean, ‘me, either’?”

  “She never looked like this before. She used to look like a normal mom.”

  “Well, maybe this is what a normal mom looks like these days. I think she looks fabulous. I’ve got to ask her where she got those shoes.” She turned to Camden. “Cam, I’m sure David’s already told you I’m helping him on this case. We’re going to solve Jared’s murder, and then maybe these horrible visions will stop.”

  I hadn’t told Camden yet, but wisely he didn’t let on. “As long as you don’t put yourself in any kind of danger.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything foolish. I’m on the research side.”

  “Well, I appreciate your help.” His glance to me was full of humor. “And I’m sure Randall appreciates your help, too.”

  Chapter Five

  “Who is He That Condemneth?”

  Camden and I dropped the ladies off at the auditorium. My head had finally stopped spinning.

  “Okay,” I said, “setting aside the fact that my mother has been replaced by some friendly fashionista, I’ve come up with a stealth plan to avoid Jordan and solve Jared’s murder. We stick to the back roads. We approach this case from a different angle. What else was Jared into besides old cars? Didn’t you say something about a comics convention?”

  “Yeah. And come to think of it, where are his comics? I don’t remember seeing them at the house.”

  “Who would know about them?”

  “Let’s try Comic World. That was his favorite place to shop.”

  Comic World was a small brightly colored shop in an ugly strip mall laughingly called Fair Oaks, squeezed between a dry cleaner’s and a shoe store. An electronic version of “Jingle Bells” blared overhead. The owner was at the desk, bent over a drawing, his tongue in one corner of his mouth as he filled in tiny strokes. He looked up, his thin reddish hair in meringue-like peaks, his goatee clinging to his chin like the last drop of syrup in the bottle.

  “Cam, you have to see the latest issue. Look! Here you are: the Psychic Kid.”

  He turned the drawing so we could see. The Psychic Kid looked like a beefed-up version of Camden, with plenty of spiky white hair and enormous eyes, a kind of cross between Sonic the Hedgehog and an anime hero.

  “Look! He kills with his eyes.”

  “Good choice, Tor. This is my friend, David Randall. Randall, Tor Noris.”

  “Call me Tor.” He eyed me. “So what’s your job?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Radical! Detecto-Man!” He grabbed his pencil and started sketching.

  “Before you get too carried away, I’m investigating Jared Hunter’s murder, and I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Tor’s peaks of hair seemed to wilt. “Oh, man, that was awful. I couldn’t believe it. Murdered in his own garage. This town’s crazy.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  Tor stroked his little goatee. I was surprised it didn’t come off in his hand. “Let’s see. He was in here last week to pick up the latest ‘Phantom Archer’ and to do a bit of trading. Left me some boxes of comics to go through.”

  “You have all of them?” Camden asked.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  I knew some comics were worth a lot of money. “What kind of comics? Anything valuable enough to get killed over?”

  Tor paled. “Good God, no. Jared had mostly one-hit wonders and stuff by local talent. He did have some old Disney and Gold Key that are kind of rare, but nothing worth dying for.”

  “Do you have his comics here?”

  “They’re in boxes in the back.”

  “Mind if we have a look?”

  Tor took us to the storeroom in the back and left us while he waited on customers. Three long white boxes sat on the worktable. I started with the first box. The comics were bagged and arranged neatly and alphabetically by title from “Arachno-Man,” “Beast,” and “Conan,” through “Donald Duck,” “Elf Mage,” and “Junior Jungle.”

  Camden thumbed through the second box. “These might be of interest to another collector, but there’s nothing really valuable here.”

  The third box started with “Super Slug” and finished with “Wasteland Warrior.” I don’t keep up with comics, but even I could tell these weren’t in the same class as Superman and Batman. “I thought there might be a one of a kind treasure in here, something someone would kill for.”

  “Not unless the murderer’s a big fan of ‘Betty and Her Pets.’ The complete collection’s in this box.”

  I imagined a comic called “Betty and Her Pets” featured a cute girl and kittens. Camden held up a copy. Well, the girl was cute, but spectacularly endowed, and her pets looked like happy snakes. “Betty’s quite the animal lover, I see.”

  We went back to the counter. Tor finished with a customer. He reached under the counter for another sketchbook. “Cam, did I ever show you Marlin Man? You’ll like this. Got him in here somewhere.” He flipped through the pages. “Yeah. Bitchin’ car. He parked it out front one day, and I got a good sketch of it.” He opened the book on the counter.

  There was the Marlin in excellent detail and Jared standing beside it in a classic hero pose, arms folded, chest out, a cape billowing behind with “MM” in fancy script.

  Camden swallowed hard. “That’s really nice.”

  “You want it?” He tore it out of the sketchbook. “I can do another.”

  Camden took the drawing. “Thanks.”

  “What was the occasion?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. A favor for Alycia. They were an item, you know? She liked the guy and his car. And he was a collector, so she talked comics with him a lot.” He closed the sketchbook. “So Detecto-Man’s on the case? What’s the deal? Didn’t they catch the guy that did it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Told you, man, the city’s crazy. Find any secret clues in the comics? The titles spell out the name of the murderer?”

  “Nothing that easy,” I said.

  “Have you seen Alycia lately?” Camden asked.

  “Nope. But I got a cool picture of her.” He turned over a page of his drawings. “Right here.”

  He’d drawn Alycia as a tall, fierce-looking woman. Her powers included something called Super-Grip Strength, which I thought would be handy for dentures, and she had the ability to call forth tigers from the jungle.

  “I do all my friends this way. It’s the highest form of flattery. Look, Cam.” He piled some comics on the counter. “I’ve got the latest ‘Marvelette’ and ‘Super Sumo.’ Oh, check out ‘Cherry Girl Blue, the Forever Saga.’ Great cover, huh? I’ve got ‘
Long River Warrior Six’ and the new ‘Jerk Basket.’ And Wendy’s been asking about you.”

  He tossed this last comment in so casually, I thought it was another comic book title, but Camden shot him a glance.

  “Wendy Riskin?”

  “You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Vividly.”

  “What about that blonde you were seeing? Ellin, was it? Still seeing her?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure she’s seeing me, though.”

  “I know for a fact if you call Wendy, she’ll be glad to see you.”

  ***

  “Wendy?” I said as we stepped outside the store.

  “Probably the most spectacular redhead you’re ever likely to see in this lifetime. She teaches aerobics at the Parkland Health Club.”

  “So how did you meet?” Camden’s idea of exercise is raking the yard.

  “She’s a big anime fan. She was in the store one day and told me if I had black hair, I’d look exactly like Keiichi in ‘Oh, My Goddess.’ I told her she looked exactly like Ryoko from the ‘Tenchi Muyo’ series, and thus a great friendship was born.”

  “Sounds like she wants to be more than friends.”

  “Well, I told her about Ellie.”

  “But is that going anywhere?”

  “Doesn’t seem to be, does it?” He unfolded Tor’s drawing of Jared as Marlin Man. “The answer’s got to be in there somewhere.”

  “In that picture?”

  “In the comics.”

  “But if they’re not worth anything.”

  “They must have been to someone.”