by Jane Tesh
“Come on up and have a beer.” We sat down in two worn green rocking chairs on his sagging porch. He handed me a brown glass bottle and took another bottle from a small cooler by his chair. “Brew it myself.”
The beer wasn’t bad, but had an odd minty taste. I didn’t ask what was in it, but I did ask about the Mixers.
“Yeah, we mix it up every now and then,” he said, as if he and the boys went down to the pool hall every Saturday night and took on a pack of astronomers. “It’s harmless. Keeps our minds working.”
“Where do you get your stuff?”
“Everybody’s got a little storehouse of goodies. We borrow from each other.”
“So you didn’t go borrowing from the Rexall, Eisner, and the Drug Palace the other evening?”
“Naw, man. We may be crazy, but we’re not thieves. Hell, I got enough stuff downstairs to last me forever. What’s missing?”
“Vitamin A, Vitamin C, mineral oil, products with retinoic acid.”
He considered this a moment. “Sounds like the thief has problem skin.”
“Could he or she be creating their own wonder cream?”
Lagenfield took another chug of his homemade beer. “Now that’s interesting. Cosmetics use vitamins as antioxidants to disarm free radicals.”
I got a mental picture of a hefty Vitamin A wresting a machine gun from someone who looked like Lagenfield. “And that means?”
“Free radicals are by-products of something in the environment that would irritate your skin, like the sun, or pollution, or cigarette smoke. But let’s say you make a product that has fewer antioxidants, or you mess with the formula. You might get some neat results.”
“Neat, as in—?”
“Like you said, a wonder cream, something that stops the aging process, or you could get something that burns your face off. Let me see what the others say.”
He got his laptop and chatted briefly online with a fellow Mixer. This one agreed the missing ingredients could have something to do with makeup.
Lagenfield typed a thank you. “I’ll check with the rest of them. Have another beer.” He clicked away for a while and then closed the laptop. “Looks like nobody knows anything useful.”
“You spoke with all the Mixers?”
“All except George McMillan. He passed away recently.”
Whoa. Hold on. “George McMillan was a Mixer?”
“Not a very good one. Grand Mess, I called him. All this about cosmetics, you’d think he was involved somehow, but he’s dead. Even if he were alive, he wouldn’t be able to create a decent formula. The man had trouble making Kool-Aid.”
But even Kool-Aid can be deadly if you put the wrong things in it. If George was a Mixer, he’d know where to find the things he needed and how to put them together. Or maybe he wasn’t the culprit. Maybe someone was forcing him to create a perfect formula.
Assuming George was still alive.
“Among the Mixers, were there any who might have held a grudge against George?”
“Not likely. As I said, he was sort of the goof of our group.”
The goof of the group. I wasn’t so sure George was the goof. And why hadn’t Ted mentioned George?
On my way home, I called Ted to thank him for the tip. “Lagenfield says George McMillan was a Mixer. Did you know him?”
“George McMillan. No, he must have joined later. I told you it had been a while since I mixed it up. What did Armand have to say about the break-ins?”
“He checked with the rest of the gang, but no one had any information.”
“I’ve heard that name before. Did I read something in the paper? Wasn’t he the guy who killed himself in Florida?”
“Apparently. Folly Harper hired me to find out what really happened.”
“What do you think really happened?”
“I wish I knew.” Although I was beginning to believe George the Mixer was alive and well and mixing up some trouble.
***
When I got back to the house, Caroline and Sandra were sitting on the porch playing with the kittens. Several packages wrapped in silver and white paper were stacked in one of the rocking chairs.
“Hello, Dave!” Sandra called. “Where’s the happy couple? Ellin’s not answering her cell phone.”
Trying for a few minutes of peace. “I don’t know where Ellin is, but Camden’s got two shows today.”
“Can we leave these boxes with you?”
“Sure. What’s all this?”
“Wedding presents.” Caroline picked up one box. “These are ear plugs for all the other tenants, so when Ellin gets wound up, your hearing will be protected.”
“We could’ve used those months ago.”
“We bought a cookbook for Ellin, but don’t get your hopes up. She can make great biscuits, but that’s it.” She pointed to another box. “And this is a super new lens for Cam’s telescope. We figured he’d be giving the heavens a lot of longing glances.”
Sandra set the kitten down and hunted in her pocketbook for her car keys. “Why is Ellin so excited, David? She said Cam could do a new trick. That sounded so kinky we’re dying for details.”
So Ellin had immediately gone into overdrive. This didn’t surprise me. “It would be better if he showed you.”
“Oooo, can’t wait. Come on, Caroline, let’s go. See you later, David.”
After the sisters left, I got a snack and went to my office. I heard a car door slam and glanced out my front window to see what looked like a giant peach rolling across the lawn. Angie waddled into my office.
“I’m here to report that everything at the party was just peachy.”
“Did you have enough money?”
“No, but I won a couple prizes playing BeautiQueen Bingo.”
Angie doesn’t fit in my office chair, so we went to the island. She plopped on the sofa. She had an unnaturally orange glow.
“You look gorgeous,” I said.
Her little eyes narrowed until they disappeared. “You wanna hear my report or not?”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“The woman who started the company years ago got the recipe from her frontier grandma. Something to do with scouring powder to clean out the iron cauldrons. She tinkered with the formula and BeautiQueen was born.”
I pictured the first brave pioneer woman to put that stuff on her face. “BeautiQueen sounds a lot better than Iron Scouring.”
“Some of the gals complained that the rejuvenating cream was not as smooth as usual, and the apricot facial scrub smelled more like melon. Nothing serious.”
“Any talk of an anti-aging cream?”
“Oh, all the time. There’s this new stuff, Extra Whip Moisturizing Deluxe, supposed to be out this week. We’re all champing at the bit for a jar of that.” She reached into the folds of her smock and brought out a brochure. She handed it to me. The package for Extra Whip Moisturizing Deluxe had a dramatic black and white geometric design.
“I hope you bought spare eyebrows,” I said.
Her regular eyebrows went up. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” The brochure had a picture of Folly and a picture of George as “co-creators” of this wondrous product. “This stuff’s not out yet?”
Angie reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table. “Not yet. Our sales lady said it would revolutionize the cosmetics industry. Have you heard that before?”
The brochure extolled the wonders of Extra Whip, calling it the latest improvement in retinoic acid-based makeup, safe even in the brightest sunlight. “No more red flaky skin! No more sensitivity to light! Use Extra Whip with confidence. Your face is in our loving hands.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
She wiped off the top layer of peach. “Whew, this stuff is thick! I can’t stand it anymore.”
“I appr
eciate your sacrifice.”
“Did I find out anything useful?”
“Several things.” I definitely wanted Camden to see this black and white brochure.
She swiped her cheeks, leaving streaks of different colors. “Cam and Ellin kiss and make up yet?”
“I’m not sure how that’s going.”
“What about Charlie and his girl?” She’d used three tissues and still looked peachy. “Looks to me like he’s getting kinda fond of Kary. What are you doing about that?”
“Plotting his demise.”
Angie picked up the tissue box and put it in her lap. “What does Taffy want?”
“Not Charlie, apparently.”
“Be serious, Randall. You’re always telling me you find what people want. What does she want more than anything?”
I had to think a moment. “A recording deal.”
“So get her one. Make it look like Charlie’s idea.”
“I don’t believe I know anyone at Capitol Records.”
“Doesn’t have to be a big company, does it? Rufus and Buddy and the Frog Hollow Boys make CDs all the time at Visions Studio right here in town.”
She continued to calmly clean her face as if she hadn’t with one remark solved two of my biggest problems. This was perfect. If Taffy had her own CD, she’d be happy. She could possibly shop it around to bigger companies and have the singing career she’d always dreamed of. If Charlie did this for her, she’d love him more than ever. Then he’d be out of my way.
“That’s a great idea,” I said.
“I’ll get the number for you.”
“I’ve already forgotten Kary, Angie. You’re the one I want.”
If she hadn’t already thrown her wadded tissues in the trash can, I’m sure she would’ve tossed them at me. “You’re too old for me, Randall.”
“Did you get all that goop off?”
“I think so.”
“Then it’s safe to do this.” I leaned over and kissed her large soft cheek.
She laughed and pushed me away.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Let a woman in your life.”
Kary and Camden got in late after the evening show of My Fair Lady, and were wiped out from having two giant performances in one day. Both of them slept late Sunday morning but got up in time for church. Afterwards, Camden fixed lasagna, green beans, and garlic bread for lunch. Underneath the table, the kittens attacked our feet and shredded a fallen napkin.
I explained Angie’s idea about Charlie getting a CD for Taffy, and everyone agreed this was the perfect solution.
“As soon as Charlie’s sober enough to understand it,” I said.
Rufus swallowed a huge bite of lasagna. “How was Taffy’s concert?”
“Pretty ghastly. And Charlie almost started a fist fight.”
“He’s a right spunky little rooster, ain’t he?”
“He’s going to be a dead rooster if he doesn’t slow down.”
Camden passed me the bread. “Find anything at Folly’s?”
“Love letters George sent to Amelia Tilley of Perfecto Face. Like most women, she was able to resist his charms. Her company’s had break-ins, too. Looks like the work of the same thief who’s been hitting the Drug Palace.”
“So the thief needs makeup?”
I needed two pieces of bread to handle all my lasagna. “I asked Ted, and I learned more about cosmetics than I needed to know. But what I didn’t know is Parkland is home to a group of rogue pharmacists who like to play with secret ingredients. I even met one in his lair, and he told me George McMillan used to be one of them.”
“A secret ingredient?”
“A Mixer.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“And not a very good one.” I passed the bread to Kary. “If George were alive—and I’m beginning to think he is—then he’d have something to prove to his Mixer buddies by creating some kind of special cream.”
She took a piece and gave the basket back to Camden. “You think George might be alive?”
“I don’t know. I’m missing something. I need to talk to his cousin Lucy again. Why don’t you two come along with me? Camden, you might get a helpful vibe.”
“I’d like to, but after the show, we have to strike the set, and then I promised Ellie I’d go with her to the caterers and sample reception food.”
“I thought that was all settled.”
“It will never be settled.”
Angie carved out a huge slice of lasagna and plopped it in her plate. “Cam, honey, everything’s an issue with Ellin. You’d better tell her about this moving stuff with your mind thing.”
He stared at her. “You know about that, too?”
“Saw you playing with the dishes the other day.”
“Well, damn, I might as well go on TV and announce it to the world. I did tell her. She reacted as you would imagine.”
“A Very Special Episode for the PSN?”
“Oh, yes.”
Rufus reached for the basket and tore off another chunk of bread. “Any idea what caused it?”
“Randall and Kary think it’s wedding jitters.”
“And losing Fred,” Kary said. “Too many changes.”
Camden looked at Fred’s empty chair. “You may be right. What I don’t understand is why all of you can take it so calmly, and Ellie freaks out.”
Rufus used his bread to maneuver a wedge of lasagna onto his fork. “She still wants to marry you, don’t she?”
“She has ordered me to marry her.”
“Sounds like business as usual. Just go ahead and do it.”
“There’s a little matter of children.”
Angie wiped her mouth on her napkin. “How many you going to have?”
“Three. Two girls and a boy. And I’m afraid they’ll inherit all this ridiculous talent.”
“So?”
“‘So’? I don’t want them to go through what I had to go through.”
“Can’t do much about that, can you? They’ll be who they are, no matter what. You can help them through the rough spots.”
“That’s what I told him,” I said.
Angie reached down to pry a kitten off her leg. “Ow. I am not a tree, you little pest. Does this mean you don’t want to marry Ellin?”
“Of course I do. But it’s a lot to think about.”
“Then you need to think about something else. How many children are Rufus and I going to have?”
Camden sat still for a long minute, his eyes gazing off into God knows what. “I can’t tell for sure. Looks like maybe one.”
“One’s enough.”
“One’s too many,” Rufus said. “Cam, how come your sweetie and her sisters didn’t join us for lunch? Thought they was going to.”
“They may come over later. They’re still getting their dresses fixed. Please pass the tea, Angie.”
She handed him the pitcher of tea. “I would’ve altered those dresses for free.”
“I know, but Jean has to have everything done at a certain shop. And Ellie has a lot to do at the studio this weekend. They’re having some kind of Psychics Around the World special.”
I pushed the sugar bowl over to him. “Wasn’t that one of Reg’s ideas? I’m surprised she agreed to it.”
“I think with the wedding coming up, she was momentarily distracted.”
Kary handed a piece of bread down to Cindy, who waited patiently by her chair. “The PSN is one of the pageant sponsors, and so is BeautiQueen.”
The kitten had decided it was his life’s ambition to climb Angie. She pried him off again. “Yeah, they talked about that at the party. Folly was encouraging everyone to go.” She held up the kitten. “Can we not find homes for these little critters? Kary, how ‘bout a free kitten with each piano lesson
?”
“I have a friend who works at the animal shelter. I’ll give her a call.”
“Don’t want ’em put down, now.”
“Oh, no. We’ll find good homes for them, or we’ll keep them, right, Cam?”
“I think Ellie would be delighted.”
After lunch, Rufus rounded up the kittens and took them outside. I gave Camden and Kary a ride to the theater, and on the way, I showed him the brochure Angie had brought from the BeautiQueen party.
“Those black and white patterns you’re seeing. Do they look like this?”
He gave it a long look. “Not exactly. There’s one pattern I can’t quite focus on.”
“This is the new must-have face cream for women of all ages. Folly must have finally gotten those numbers right.”
“Oh, did she say what she needed them for?”
“The secret formula.”
“I don’t think so. I get more of a winning feeling.”
“The winning formula.”
“The winning numbers.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t playing the lottery. Hang on. Angie said she won a couple of prizes playing Bingo at the BeautiQueen party.”
“I’m seeing Bingo numbers?”
“Let’s assume that Folly plays Bingo at her parties. Wouldn’t she be thinking about Bingo numbers?”
“But if she’s trying to find numbers for a formula, wouldn’t she be thinking in that direction?”
“Have you had a conversation with her? I’ll bet her brain waves trip over each other.” Then something else occurred to me. “Or worse, you’re giving her Bingo numbers, and she’s using them to make her face creams.”
I pulled up in front of the theater to let them out.
“Come back around six and bring your power tools,” Kary said. “We need everyone we can find to strike this set.”
“Will there be food?”
“Free pizza and chips. Why don’t you come watch the show?”
I didn’t want to sit through the show again, and fortunately, I had a good excuse. “Ted needs me to watch the store this afternoon. See you at six.”
***
After an uneventful afternoon at the store, I went back to the theater. The auditorium echoed with the sound of hammers and drills. The cast had changed their fancy costumes for tee shirts and jeans and swarmed over the set, dismantling the flats and hauling away the furniture.
