Knickers in a Twist

by Kim Hunt Harris

  “There's my girl,” I said. Any recliner in a storm, huh, Stump?

  “How was Anne?”

  “She was remarkably well,” Viv said. “You may as well know—Nigel is not who he pretended to be. We caught him sneaking out with his suitcase and all his belongings in a cardboard box.”

  “I figured as much.” Imogene shook her head in disgust.

  “You did?”

  “Of course. You were very smart to keep calling him out the way you did with all that British trivia. He knew you were on to him and he panicked. I just didn't have the heart to tell Anne.”

  “No,” Viv nodded, as if she'd been of the same mind. “What, exactly, made you realize he was such a faker?”

  “Well, I started wondering about him at that poetry reading. He's clearly a trained actor.”

  “Clearly,” Viv said.

  “And I just don't trust actors.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And then when you kept so subtly questioning his story, and he couldn't really provide any answers...” She held up her hands. And the Veterans Day ceremony, with his laryngitis or whatever.” She shook her head and snorted. “Too afraid to even attempt to answer questions. Such a phony. If Anne had had all her faculties around her, she would have seen through such a charlatan in an instant.”

  “She asked about him just now, and I made up a story about his daughter taking him to Florida.”

  Imogene nodded her approval. “Good idea. She'll miss him, but I think it would crush her to know she was fooled by such an obvious con man.”

  Viv's shoulders, already slumped, drooped even more. “Yes. Well...”

  “We need to be going,” I said. “Thank you so much for watching Stump. There aren't that many people she feels comfortable with.”

  “Anytime,” Imogene said, because apparently this was the day for shocking revelations.

  We walked back toward the main building, but Viv stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “What's the matter?”

  Viv looked up at the building. “I can't go back in there. Not yet.”

  “Let's go get some coffee then.”

  She didn't respond.

  “Or tea? I'll bet that new coffee house on 19th knows what Earl Grey hot is.”

  She frowned. “No. Coffee’s fine. But you have to drive.”

  We drove to a small coffee shop where I could park close to the windows. I rolled the window down for Stump and told her to sit and be quiet. I closed the door and hoped for the best. Before I'd reached the front door, though, she was already howling.

  “We can sit outside,” Viv said.

  The November air was chilly but not freezing. I ordered two black coffees while Viv let Stump out, and they claimed a table on the deserted patio. Viv buttoned her coat and sat, hunched, staring at the wrought iron tabletop. Stump lay at her feet, her nose between her paws.

  We sat and drank our coffee in silence for a while. I had no idea what to say, but I was growing more worried by Viv's demeanor by the minute.

  Viv stared straight ahead, then made a frustrated, groaning noise. She frowned at her coffee.

  “Nigel?” I asked.

  She just frowned deeper. “Yes. No. Not him, exactly. Me. You might find this hard to believe, but I really hadn't caught on to the fact that he was faking. Not really. I mean, I would have. Like I said, it was all there in my subconscious. But on a conscious level...”

  “Me either,” I said. “It seems obvious now, after Imogene pointed everything out.”

  “I hate that I made such a fool of myself for no reason.”

  I reached across and took her hand. “If it's any consolation, I almost got a little crush when you played that recording of him reading that poem. The only reason I didn't was I didn't want to move in on your territory.”

  She drew her hand back and stirred her coffee. “You're a good friend. And you're right—we do not need to be competing over men. I've lost too many friends that way. They never forgive you for being the one chosen.”

  I nodded, judiciously deciding not to challenge her assumption that Nigel would have chosen her over me, because it was entirely too weird.

  She sighed. “He was a hottie.”

  I nodded. “He was. And you were only human.”

  “I know. It's just that now...he wasn't really British. He wasn't really a war hero. Does that mean he wasn't really even hot? I mean...I feel very confused now.”

  “Well, it's a confusing situation. You'll work it out, though.”

  She sighed and rested her chin in her hand. She stared down at the cup. “This is not what I want.”

  “Do you want me to get the tea after all?”

  She shook her head, still in her hand. “No. I want a bottle.”

  “Oh.” Oh. I felt a moment of panic. I was used to being the one who needed support. I didn't have a lot of experience being the one who provided it. Viv very rarely talked about wanting to drink, and when she did, it was more in passing. Never had she said it while she was looking so dejected.

  What would Les do, if this were me?

  Les would sit back, let me rant and rail against the unfairness of life and how hard things were, and then say something infuriating like, “You're doing great, Salem.”

  Since I didn't know what to say, I sat back and said nothing, waiting for her to go on.

  “I think my whole life I've wanted to be someone else.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  She nodded, still staring at her cup.

  “But...you're so cool.”

  She shrugged. “That was just me, trying to be someone else. Anyone else.”

  Poor Viv! I chewed my lip, thinking about all the things that had been running through my own mind over the last few weeks—all the labels I'd had during my life. Most of them were labels I hadn't wanted but that had given me some sense of perspective. Even if I didn't like where I was, I could at least look around me and see where I fit, how I fit. In school, I was with the kids who hid behind the gym and smoked, who poured Jack Daniels into their Sonic cokes, who laughed at the failing grades on their report cards. Then I became a teen pregnancy statistic. After I left Tony, I was with the gang who hung out at the bar, who turned every occasion into a reason to drink.

  When I met Viv, I became part of the duo who went nosing around in other people's business and sometimes solving crimes.

  I studied Viv, who stared glumly at her cup. It was impossible to imagine her feeling those same things, though. Viv was someone who always seemed fully, joyously herself. It broke my heart to think that she ever felt as miserable in her own skin as I did in mine.

  I reached out again and took her hand. I prayed that God would give me the right words to say.

  “Listen, Viv. I know how you feel. That, deep inside you, the person the world can't see is just not good enough. That the very essence of you is damaged, somehow. But I know you, and I know you have a lot left to offer.”

  She drew her head back and gave me the are-you-crazy look. “What?”

  “I just mean that I can empathize with that, wanting to be someone else. Because it's so hard to be who you are. You feel like you're all wrong, somehow, that you're destined to fail at whatever you do.”

  “But I succeed at everything I do.”

  “I know, but—”

  “You know, don't take this the wrong way, but you suck at this.”

  I drew back and blinked. “I...what?”

  “Seriously, you're horrible. What a load of hog spit. Deep down, the very essence of you is damaged. What a load of baloney.”

  “I—but—you’re the one who said—I wasn't saying you were actually damaged!”

  “There is no deep down essence, sister. We are what we do, period. We're all trees and we're known by our fruit, right? That's what the man said.”

  “Um, I guess so.”

  She stood and pulled the belt of her coat tighter. “Listen, you started out okay, there. ‘But you're so
cool.’ That's what you said. That was a good start. But then you went off into all this existential psycho-babble and it went completely off the rails.” She glared at me. “And what the heck was that, 'You have a lot left to offer' bit? A lot left? That's like saying, 'You still have your health'! Come on! That’s what you say to old people!”

  I nodded, but I felt quite off kilter, and a bit annoyed, too. “What should I have said, oh great and wise one?”

  “Clearly, what was needed were Exhibits A through Z in the 'but you're so cool' defense.” She held up her hand as if it should have been obvious. “Good lord. Deep down essence. Sheesh.” She shook her head in exasperation.

  “I see.”

  “Let's go.” She headed for the car. Without asking, she got behind the wheel.

  I stood and picked up Stump and sat us in the passenger seat. As I handed Viv the keys, I asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere. I've had my cry in my drink. Now it's time to get moving again.”

  “Moving again to what?” I asked as she swung the car out of the parking lot.

  “This is our last case. We could have ended on a high note—the lead from Browning’s car at the school. But no. We had to foul it up by throwing out that dead-end bit about Baucum’s half-brother and then get our butts handed to us by Imogene Walker, of all people. I can't quit on this sad note, Salem. One more win, that's all I need.”

  “I can't go chasing after bad guys, Viv. I kind of almost made a promise to my husband.”

  “Kind of almost is not a promise, Salem.”

  “I should also mention that I don't want a marriage that's based on splitting hairs.”

  She sighed. “Gag. Okay. What if we don't get out of the car?”

  I considered this. It would be kind of hard to get into trouble if we didn't get out of the car. “If we see a bad guy, we have to run the other way.”

  “If we see a bad guy, I intend to mow him down with the car.”

  Of course, neither of us said the obvious—that our history of identifying the actual bad guy always came the moment after it was too late to extricate ourselves safely.

  But I supposed even the best of plans had their flaws.

  “Did I tell you I started watching that show, Vera?”

  “Another British detective.”

  “Yep. Looks like a human-size Paddington Bear. And you know what Vera would do if she was at a dead end?” Viv said. “First, she would stare at the tri-fold white board for a while. Then she would holler for her hot young detective sergeant and they would jump in the beat-up Jeep to make the circuit of all the places she'd already been. See if it stirred up any new ideas.”

  “I can play the hot young detective sergeant,” I said. “Just as long as we stay in the car.”

  “Done. First, we'll go by Eagle Construction and, if we see someone, I'll just roll down the window and ask all the questions we should have asked in the first place.”

  I thought this through. The place was well-lit, in a high-traffic area. If, by chance, the mysterious half brother was there, and if he really did have nefarious tendencies—something that, admittedly, seemed far-fetched considering the holes Bobby had poked all in my theory—he probably wouldn't do anything.

  I thought how I would explain this to Tony, if I needed to.

  Viv was depressed and she wanted a drink. It was a choice between a bottle and driving around chasing dead ends.

  This would, very likely, lead to nothing, and I would have no need to explain anything to Tony. Just in case, though, I said, “You have your gun, right?”

  “Naturally. Get it out of my purse, though, so I can have it handy.”

  I dug through her purse and gingerly handed her the gun.

  She leaned forward, tugging at her coat. “Help me,” she ordered.

  I tugged at the back of her coat, then her jacket, then her blouse. By the time I got the gun tucked into the waistband of her pants, I was sweating and secretly glad this was our last case. I hoped I didn't shoot her in the butt. That would not end our PI careers on a high note.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Eagle Construction was closed. I figured it probably would be—it was after 7:00—but not being entirely familiar with the construction business, I hadn't known what to expect. I felt pretty virtuous for having stuck to my guns with Viv, though. So to speak.

  I was less relieved when she circled the building for the third time. “Viv, there's no one here,” I said, fearful that some late-working executive, who was secretly a bad guy, would emerge from the building, and then we'd have to roll down the window and talk to him and possibly get shot for who knows what reason.

  “I'm just making sure we've covered everything thoroughly,” Viv answered, her mouth set in determination. “Finish strong.”

  “Well, consider this angle covered. What's next? The Metro Tower building?”

  “Nope.”

  “The place where Browning's body was found?”

  “Rabid possums? No, thank you. Let's go back to the best lead we did have—the school.”

  I thought for a moment. This one did seem, also, safe. A residential neighborhood. The school was empty, and the last I'd heard the rubble still hadn't been cleared away, even though the earthquake had happened months ago. The rumor was that there were pending lawsuits that had held up the clearing away of the debris. All kinds of things still being investigated.

  “What are we looking for there, though? Browning’s drive-by there was almost two weeks ago.”

  “Yes, but nobody's been up there looking for clues, have they? If he dropped something, like you said, it could conceivably still be there.”

  I shrugged. “I guess. But I'm not getting out of the car.”

  She gave me a look. “I hope your husband appreciates the sacrifices I'm making for him.”

  “I'll try to communicate the enormity to him,” I promised. To be perfectly honest, I wanted to follow up on this one. Bobby had said it was a good find. He hadn't dismissed out of hand my theory that Browning had tossed something out of the car on his way through.

  We drove to NorthStar Elementary, and, as promised, Viv slowed the car to a crawl in the driveway, but didn't stop.

  “Hang on,” I said, opening the flashlight app on my phone. I opened the door and leaned out, shining the light against the curb.

  We crawled along with me leaning out the door as far out as I dared, braced against the seatbelt. Nothing. A few clumps of leaves that I poked at, but nothing that could be considered a clue. Plus, the blood was rushing to my head from leaning over so far.

  I groaned and rose, dropping my phone onto the seat. The car door swung out of my grip.

  Stump pushed off from my lap and jumped out the door.

  “Crud!” I shouted. “Stump, get back here.”

  She was already gone into the dark, though.

  The car kept rolling.

  “Viv! Stop the car.”

  “You said not to - “

  “Stop the dadgummed car!” I punched the button on my seatbelt and leapt from the car, stumbling as I hit the pavement.

  Viv finally stopped, and I reached back in and grabbed my phone, fumbling for the flashlight app. “Stump! Come here, baby.” I tried to keep the panic from my voice.

  I scanned the front of the building. It stretched far on either side, but since the landscaping hadn't been completed when the earthquake happened, the front of the building was fairly flat and unobstructed. Not knowing which way she'd run, though, made my heart thud painfully.

  I stepped backwards to get a broader perspective and saw a flash of movement at the corner of the building. I took off running in that direction.

  The back of the building was fenced in, to keep people out of the rubble, I supposed. From the street lamp on the next corner, I could see heavy equipment. Apparently work had begun on clearing the area, but it was still a mess.

  I swept the beam along the ground, picturing Stump rooting under the fence, getting cr
ushed by falling concrete rubble. “Come here, Sweetie. Come to me.”

  I could hear her sniffing and snorting around at the fence. I couldn't imagine what she'd found that would keep her so focused, but she was not paying a bit of attention to me.

  Another flash of movement caught my eye around the tires of that equipment—a small bulldozer or something.

  I heard something behind me and turned to see Viv picking her way across the dirt toward us. “I want to go on record as being the one who tried to stay in the car,” she said.

  “Fine, I'll be sure Tony is aware. Help me find Stump.”

  “I'm helping,” she said. She pulled her own phone out of her purse and tapped the flashlight app. Nothing. She tapped it again. Nothing.

  “What the—” She turned the phone over to look at the light and it flashed in her face. “Oh, crap!” She stumbled back, blinking furiously.

  I giggled.

  Then I heard paper rattling. I whipped my flashlight back to the ground and spotted Stump behind one wheel of the dozer, tearing into a Taco Juan’s bag. “No! Stump, no!”

  “What?” Viv shouted, panic in her voice.

  “She's found a leftover bean burrito!”

  Viv snorted. “Good grief. Is that all? I thought she'd found a bomb or something.”

  “She did.” I got down on my knees and lunged for the bag. “It's a delayed explosive device, believe me. It'll go off in my bedroom floor about three o'clock tomorrow morning.”

  Stump growled and tugged at the bag, backing further under the equipment. I lunged after it, touching paper with the tips of my fingers, but couldn't reach. I got down on my belly and stretched. Stump gripped the bag in her teeth fiercely and continued to back away. I slithered after her.

  I finally managed to get enough of the bag in my grip that I could pull on it. Stump growled and tugged back, but she couldn't get it out of my grip. I tugged hard, the bag tore, and I wadded it up in my hands. Yep, I could feel the remains of a cold bean burrito in there. Stump ran to me and sniffed furiously, pawing at my hands.

  “I got it!” I called to Viv. “Crisis averted.” Stump clawed so furiously that she scratched my lip. “Ouch, Stump! Quit it.”

  I slid back toward the edge of the dozer, now completely covered in dirt but relieved that I wouldn't have to stay up all night waiting for Stump to exhibit signs of gastrointestinal distress. I rolled over and was about to push myself up when something struck me.