Knickers in a Twist

by Kim Hunt Harris

  At that moment, I remembered I was supposed to be discouraging this kind of activity, not encouraging it.

  “It probably wasn't him.”

  “Probably not. But we're near there, so we might as well check it out.”

  Crud. “Actually, I really need to get back to Tony's so I can pick up Stump.”

  “What's happened to Frank?” Viv asked.

  “I think he must have a girlfriend,” I said. “I hardly see him anymore.”

  “Good for him. It's about time. Handsome, virile man like that needs a woman.”

  I was so stunned at the idea of Frank being handsome—not to mention virile—that for a second I forgot I was trying to talk Viv out of hunting down clues to a mystery that might not even be a mystery.

  “In any case, I'm sure Tony won't mind hanging on to Stump for another half hour while we check out this construction guy.”

  I chewed my steamed broccoli and thought. Talking to Misty Monahan in the safety of the Belle Court Fireside Lounge had felt safe. Going to a construction company felt infinitely less so. If we did happen to be following a murderer, there could be all kinds of ways to get into trouble. He'd have...tools and stuff. Hammers, crowbars, probably even nail guns. Yikes.

  On the other hand, there was the fact that we didn't even know if there was a murder to begin with. So it wasn't like we had compelling reason not to hunt the guy down and...hmmm...apologize for walking in front of his truck? That sounded like a decent straw to grasp at.

  “We'll need to make it quick,” I warned. “Maybe just swing through the parking lot to see if it's the same guy. We won't even get out of the car.”

  “Whatever. You stay in the car if you want to. If I see him, I'm talking to him.” She signaled for the check.

  Eagle Construction was a couple of miles from the outlet mall, and I insisted on driving this time. If things went south, I didn't want to rely on Viv to get us out of there.

  “There he is! Don't let him get away.”

  “Would you chill out?” I said, annoyed that she'd made my heart race for no reason. “He's not going to flee the interview.”

  “He will if you don't hurry up.” She was out the door before I killed the engine.

  It was definitely the same guy from Tuesday night. Whether it was the same guy as at Belle Court, I couldn't say. What I could say—and didn't care for—was that he carried a tool box in one hand.

  “God, if this guy is a murderer, please don't let him kill us, or else Tony will be so mad at me.”

  “Excuse me,” Viv called to the guy, the ribbons on her fascinator flouncing with each step. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out one of those mortifying business cards.

  Jeez-o-Friggin-Peet. I killed the engine and wondered what could be going through his mind—one old woman and one chubby girl in a forty-year-old Monte Carlo, handing out bondage cards.

  “First, I wanted to apologize for stepping in front of you at Belle Court. That was you, wasn't it?”

  He looked at the card, then looked from Viv, her hat, then to me.

  I tried not to look embarrassed.

  “I'm sorry...what?”

  “At Belle Court, after the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony?”

  “The Veterans Day ceremony this afternoon. Were you there? After it was over, we were walking to our car and I accidentally stepped in front of your truck.” She nodded toward the pickup he'd been about to get into. It looked like eight other white pickups in the parking lot.

  “Oh, yeah...that. Yes, that was me.”

  I got a little thrill of fear. One pickup out of nine happens to belong to the same guy we were looking for. We happen to see him twice in less than a week, at two totally unrelated events. We happen to find him here on a Sunday evening, when the place was closed. It all had to add up to something, right?

  “I wanted to apologize for that. I get a little preoccupied in my thoughts.”

  I eyed the well-muscled arm that still held the tool box. Could he just...whip out something and bash us over the head with it? Just in case he got any ideas, I thought I'd better make sure he knew we were no danger to him. I put my arm through Viv's and patted her. “She gets confused sometimes. Forgets to watch where she's going.” I hunched my shoulders and giggled. “Sometimes it's all I can do to keep her from wandering onto the Loop in her nightgown.”

  Viv gave me the stink eye, but turned back to the guy. “Anyway. Were you at the ceremony?”

  He took a moment to turn and slide the tool box into the pickup seat. He turned back to us and stuck his hands in his pockets. “No, I didn't know there was a ceremony, actually. My mom's up there in the Alzheimer's unit. I was visiting her.”

  We were silent for a moment. “I'm sorry,” I finally said.

  He took a deep breath and nodded in a What can you do? kind of way.

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Viv said. “Belle Court does have the best Alzheimer’s treatment available, though. She's in good hands.”

  “I know.” He nodded again. For a second his face flashed with anger, and I was reminded of the way he'd muttered, “Vultures,” at the reporters Tuesday night.

  Now that we'd bumbled our way into this situation, I wasn't sure how to proceed, though.

  Luckily, Viv had no such problem. “We also saw you on Tuesday night, when Peter Browning's body was found.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He looked from Viv to me and back again. “Yes, I remember you. That was something else, huh?”

  “Shocking,” Viv said.

  “I was driving by there on my way home and saw all the commotion. I had to stop.” He ducked his head and gave us a sheepish look. “I hate to be a sightseer, but I had to stop. You know.” He shrugged. “All the lights. You have to wonder what's going on.”

  “Did you know Peter Browning?” I asked.

  He tilted his head forward. “Who? Oh, the reporter guy?” He shook his head. “No, not really. I mean, I knew who he was, from the television. And I'd seen all the stories about him going missing. But I didn't know him. I've only lived here a few months.” He frowned and shifted, as if something had just occurred to him. “Now, what did you say you were doing here? You're...” He looked at the card. “Private investigators?”

  “That's right,” Viv said. She lifted her chin. “We're investigating the death of Peter Browning.”

  He drew his brow down, confused. “But...I heard it was suicide.”

  “The ME report isn't in yet,” Viv said. “It's not like on TV when you know the cause of death within half a day, you know.”

  “Of course, I'd just heard, you know, there was a note or something.”

  Viv and I looked at each other. We hadn't heard about any note!

  “Yes, well...what does a note prove?” Viv crossed her arms over her chest.

  He shrugged again. “I guess that depends on what is in the note.”

  “Yes, and what was in the note?”

  “Exactly. I mean—umm. What?”

  “What was in that note?” Viv leaned toward him, her eyes flashing. “Come on. What did it say?”

  “How should I know?” He took a step back, eyes widening.

  “You're the one who said there was a note.”

  He looked lost. “That's just...that's the rumor I heard.” His confusion was quickly turning to annoyance.

  “Where? Who told you?”

  “Look, lady—”

  Clearly it was time for me to intervene. We certainly didn't want to annoy someone into becoming a murderer if they weren't already.

  I put my hand out. “Please excuse our...overzealousness.”

  “It's actually unbridled enthusiasm,” Viv said.

  “We just hadn't heard about the note, so this is a bit of a surprise to us.”

  He frowned, but gave a slight nod. “I guess if there's no crime, there's no need for an investigation.”

  Viv did not look happy about that. “Bloody heck.”

  I apologized again,
and we got back into the car silently. Viv sat with her arms crossed and her chin stuck out, looking like an 80-year-old toddler who'd been sent to bed without her supper.

  “Your enthusiasm is admirable,” I offered as I pulled onto the loop.

  “Fat lot of good it's doing me.”

  I decided not to continue. Truth be told, I wasn't exactly feeling energized by the way that had gone, either. I felt stupid for bothering the guy and reminding him about the mother with Alzheimer's. It was probably a good thing Tony didn't want me to investigate anymore. I wasn't exactly good at it.

  But what was I good at? What were my gifts?

  I went through the list I'd read in Romans the other morning. Teaching? No. Prophecy? Clearly not. There was something about contributing with generosity, but since I had to get by on my salary as a dog groomer, it was difficult to see how that could be my God-given gift.

  Exhortation. Wasn't that kind of like enthusiasm?

  That was not my gift, either, but thinking of it did remind me of how excited Viv had been after leaving the psychic the day before, all jazzed up because she'd been told she had lived a life of unbridled enthusiasm.

  Personally, I could use something encouraging like that, and it looked like Viv could use a fresh shot. Maybe Serena could give me some insight into myself that would help me figure out why I was here.

  “How about we go back to Serena's and see if she's had anymore visions?”

  Viv shrugged. “Might as well.”

  The new lease on the motel's life had given G-Ma a new lease on life, too. She seemed to have aged backwards a good fifteen years. At least her hair had. The solid red football helmet style she had worn for years was replaced by a soft auburn with blond and brown streaks and a soft, wispy fringe of bangs around her forehead.

  She met me and Viv on the sidewalk, turning this way and that to give us a chance to fully admire the new 'do. Sometimes it was easy to see where my mom had gotten her confidence.

  “What do you think? Elma did it just this morning.”

  “It's great!” I said and meant it. “Who's Elma?”

  “You knew her as Felicia.

  “Oh,” I said, and immediately changed my mind about going to her for my own updated new look. Felicia had expressed a desire to kill me one time when I'd accidentally gotten us all arrested for prostitution. I didn't know if “Elma” held the same views, but I wasn't keen on finding out.

  “We're here to see Serena,” I said. “Get some more information about her visions.”

  “That's a great idea.” G-Ma clapped her hands together. “Fantastic!”

  My dour, grumpy G-Ma, clapping her hands together and declaring things “fantastic!”

  “She has a new collection of crystals, just in today. You have to see them!”

  I drew my head back. My G-Ma, who scoffed at anything she couldn't see, hear, taste, or feel, excited about crystals. Who was this woman?

  “Have her read your aura,” G-Ma said. “She just told me mine was purple. Purple is a sign of financial gain. She said the universe is telling me to keep striving, that all my hard work is about to pay off.”

  It all made sense now. Nothing excited G-Ma more than the idea of “financial gain.” I could certainly understand that. That would probably make me happy, too.

  “Come here and rub some of your purple off on me,” I said, closing in for a hug.

  Across the parking lot, Viv was already inside Serena's shop. The place was lighter than I expected, but still had plenty of shiny, spinny, dangly things hanging around the room—dream catchers, spinning crystals, other unidentifiables. Something like music played in the background—a humming, moaning kind of thing. Whales, maybe?

  “We actually haven't had a chance to talk to the police yet.”

  “That's great,” Serena said. “The opportunity will present itself when the time is right for it to be received.” She smiled with serenity.

  She turned to me, still smiling. As soon as she saw me, though, her smile vanished. She drew her head back, her brow suddenly furrowed.

  Uh-oh. My heart started to pound, and I immediately ran through the list of possible explanations for this reaction. Back when I was drinking, I'd had quite a talent for mouthing off and offending people. Okay, the truth was I wasn't too shabby at it now. But when I was drinking, it was as if I looked for ways to offend people. They weren't hard to find.

  I studied Serena's face, trying to trigger a memory so I could know what I should be apologizing for. Did I flirt with her boyfriend? Spill a beer on her? Insult her to her face?

  Nothing came to mind. After a few seconds, I realized she and I were staring at each other.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to jog my memory—your face looks familiar to me.” It didn't, but that seemed like a good enough opening.

  Serena shook her head. “We've never met.” Not a trace of doubt.

  “Oh.” Soooo...the sight of me made her frown for no real reason? I looked over at Viv, who was busy studying a crystal.

  “I'm sorry,” Serena finally said. “I've just...I've never seen such a deep blue before.”

  I looked down at my dress.

  “No, your aura.” She looked at the area just a few inches above my head.

  “Oh?” I stood there feeling self-conscious. “Umm, well. Thank you.” I gave a tiny curtsy.

  “Seriously.” As if in a daze, she waved her hands lightly above my head, as if trying to touch it. “It's so dark it's almost black.”

  I remembered what G-Ma had said about her purple aura. Purple meant financial gain. Blue and purple were right next to each other on the color spectrum, right? My heart rate ticked up another notch.

  “That's great,” I said.

  “No, it's bad,” she said.

  “Bad?” Good grief. Financial loss, then? But I had nothing to lose!

  “Well, I mean...nothing is good or bad, right? It just...is what it is.”

  “If it is what it is, why is your face all like this?” I pulled my own mouth down in an exaggerated frown. Suddenly, she was kind of getting on my nerves.

  She shook her head and gave a flat smile. “It's not...it's just...I feel bad for you.”

  “But why? I'm going to be hit by a bus or something?”

  “No, it's not like that. Auras don't predict the future or anything like that. Auras reflect the state of our spirits, the state of our energy.”

  “So, what does dark blue mean, then?”

  “It's the color of blockage. The color of...” She frowned again and put her hands on her hips. She tilted her head. She put her hand to her chin, studying me. “It's the color of repression. You, my friend, are harboring an enormous fear of self-expression.”

  Then she straightened and smiled, satisfied.

  I waited a couple of beats. Then, “That's it?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely. You have the biggest fear of self-expression I've ever seen.”

  “Well, give me a smiley-face sticker!” I said sourly.

  She laughed. “I get that it's not exactly the thing someone would want to hear unless—”

  “No kidding,” I interrupted. “You told Viv she was a bright ray of sunlight or something and told G-Ma she was about to come into great wealth.”

  “Not precisely true on either count,” she said. The serene smile was back in full force.

  “I need to hear something good,” I said.

  “Nothing is good or bad. It simply is what it is.”

  I sighed. Did I really need this? No. No, I did not. I turned to Viv. “You ready?”

  “If you want to change the color of your aura, all you have to do is start expressing yourself.” Still with that smile.

  I wondered what color my aura would turn if I, say, bounced one of those crystals off the side of her head. “I can't,” I said. “I've taken a vow of nonviolence.”

  She laughed. I hated that she had such a nice laugh, light and bubbly.

  “Just be you. That's
all. Let the world see you. You deserve to be seen.”

  “I am me,” I snapped. “I'm me every blessed day. If I knew how to be someone else, believe me, I would have made the switch long ago.”

  She drew her head back again. “Whoa.”

  “What?”

  “It actually just turned darker.”

  I held my hands out, game show hostess style. “Get me, I'm a wonder of spiritual constipation. Viv, are you ready?”

  “Sure, let me just get a couple of these.” She handed over a handful of shiny things to Serena. Then she looked at me. “Jeez-O-Peet . What are you frowning about?”

  I hooked a thumb at Serena. “I came here hoping she would say something to cheer me up, and she made me feel worse.” Something about that smile made me want to smash it.

  To me, Serena said, “Why do you need cheering up?” Then to Viv, “That'll be $39.74.”

  I opened my mouth to explain about Tony and chasing bad guys with guns and about Paul pointing out the different jobs in the body of Christ and about how I had no idea what part of the body I was.

  But I didn't want to talk about Tony in front of Viv. It would seem a bigger deal than it was. Viv would go all feminist commando on me, and I wasn't emotionally prepared for that. Not with my navy blue aura and all.

  “Nothing,” I finally mumbled. “It's just that Viv and G-Ma were encouraged by what you said to them.”

  “You could be encouraged, as well.”

  I felt my eyes bug. “Encouraged?”

  “Yes! Encouraged to let open the floodgates, be who you are, express your deepest self, and walk out of this small world you've locked yourself in.” She handed Viv the paper bag of her goodies.

  I shook my head. “Nope. When I open the floodgates, entire villages are wiped out.”

  “Hmmm...must not have been your true floodgates you were opening, then.”

  I stared at her. I blinked. I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't think of a thing. “What?”

  She nodded serenely. “Yes.”

  I sputtered a few attempts at words, then said. “Look. I came in here hoping you could help me—I don't know. Tell me why I'm here. What my purpose is. I feel lost and pointless and...”

  I drifted off because she'd lifted her hands to her mouth, opened in a fond smile. The smile you would give your five-year-old who has just learned to ride a bike without training wheels.