Getting Sassy

by D. C. Brod

  “Sure you do, Mom. You like adventures. Remember?”

  There was a soft rapping at the door and Savoy stuck her head in.

  “Lizzie,” she said, coming into the room. “I hear you’re going to visit an old friend in Ohio. Who would that be?”

  My mother looked at her as if she had begun speaking in tongues.

  “Are you feeling up to a long ride?”

  Again, that look of complete disconnect. I patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom.” To the nurse I said, “She sometimes gets confused in the evening.”

  “We know,” she said, sounding rather sharp. “That’s why I’m a little concerned with you taking her out tonight. Why don’t you wait until morning?”

  “Like I said, we have to leave very early.”

  “What time? I’ll have someone get her up and ready by then.”

  “Oh, no, thanks but that’s okay. I’ve been promising her a night at my place.”

  My mother grabbed my wrist. “Robyn—”

  “That’s okay, Mom.”

  “Robbie?” Her whole face lit up. “Are you taking me to see Robbie?”

  “Not exactly.” Although that would have been the easy way out, I couldn’t lie to her about Robbie. Not after seeing her face at the séance. “But it’s someone you’ve been looking forward to seeing.”

  I got her cane and handed it to her. “It’s going to be an adventure, Mom.”

  “An adventure?” I sensed a little excitement in her tone.

  Nurse Savoy was giving both of us a dubious look.

  “I need to sign her out now,” I said.

  I felt as though Savoy’s odd little eyes were on me the whole way to the residents’ lot.

  “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” my mother said.

  “It is. It really is pretty.”

  Still hunched over her cane, she looked up at me. “Robyn, you need to take more time with your hair. It looks a fright.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Much to Bix’s dismay, I moved him to the back of the van. There was plenty of room around Sassy’s crate, but he ensconced himself in the corner farthest from it. Sassy was curled up in his hay, content for the time being.

  “Where did you get this vehicle?” My mother asked as I helped her up into it. She wasn’t used to that large a step, and I practically had to lift her onto the seat.

  “A friend loaned it to me. My car’s in the shop.” The little lies had become so easy.

  “You wait here for a minute, Mom. I need to make a quick phone call.”

  As I walked away I heard her mutter, “What is that smell, Robyn?”

  I put about fifteen feet between the van and me, positioning myself under a maple tree so I wouldn’t be standing out in the open, and punched in #2 again.

  Bull answered on the first ring, unleashing some colorful language. I imagined his face turning red and bits of spittle hitting the phone. What he said in effect was that I’d better bring his goat back or I would be very, very sorry.

  I let him finish and then, keeping my voice as calm and as even as my racing heart would allow, I read off my notes again. “If you want the goat back, it’s going to cost you five hundred thousand dollars.”

  There was a silence I can only describe as stunned. “A half mil? Are you out of your mind? It’s a fucking goat.”

  “It’s Blood’s ‘ fucking goat,’” I ad libbed. “And it’s going to cost you five hundred grand to get him back.” I waited for more cursing and when it didn’t come, I said, “I’ll call you at ten a.m. tomorrow to tell you where to bring the money.” Now I could hear him sputtering. “If you follow instructions, you’ll have him back by three.” This was getting easier. Maybe I was feeding off his anger.

  Then he stopped sputtering. “I don’t know who you are, but you are not getting away with this. Nobody messes with me, and—”

  “We’ll see,” I said, and disconnected, hoping I had sounded bolder than I felt. Now it was up to Mick to convince him it was worth the trade. I had to concede that, at this point, Mick had the tougher job. He’d have to deal with the raging Bull and work him at the same time.

  Before I returned to the van, I switched phones and punched in Detective Hedges’ number. As I’d hoped, I got his voice mail. “It’s Robyn Guthrie. Jack Landis was at my apartment this evening. He wanted something he thinks I’ve got. I don’t know what it is, but he’s got me scared. That was about ten thirty. I’m taking my mother and staying out of town for the night. Talk to you later.” I supposed he would call me.

  When I got in the car, my mother said, “Robyn? Is that a goat in the back?”

  “Yes. Yes it is. A pygmy goat.” I turned to her. “But I could get in a lot of trouble for having this goat, so you’ve got to remember not to tell anyone about him. I hate to ask you to lie, but can you do this for me just once?”

  “Are you in trouble, Robyn?” I could hear dry tears in her words.

  “Not really. No. It’s just something I need to do...” I trailed off.

  “It’s not for a cult or anything like that?”

  I had to laugh. “No.”

  She sniffed. “Oh, well that’s good.”

  Then she said, “Are we going to your place?”

  “No. This is a little farther. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  “All right.” Then she said, “Did you bring my cigarettes?”

  “I’ll stop for some.”

  “See that you do.”

  CHAPTER 19

  When we arrived at Wayside Inn, it was almost midnight. I figured I’d be waking up the proprietor, but that couldn’t be helped. The light was still on and the “no” in “no vacancies” hadn’t been lit. We were in luck.

  I pulled up to the office door and turned off the van. My mother roused from her sleep long enough to tell me she was hungry, then tilted her head back and dropped off again. For that I was grateful. I went around to the back of the van and opened the door. Bix had fallen asleep, as had Sassy, and my dog didn’t protest as I lifted him out of the van and tucked him under my arm.

  The office door was open and the blinds clanked against the glass as I closed it behind me. The office consisted of a short counter with a closed door behind it and an area with two green frayed chairs with a small table between them. Against the wall was a Coke machine. At first all I could hear was its humming, but then I noticed the faint sounds of a TV show emanating from behind the door. I looked around for a bell to ring and, finding none, went around behind the counter and knocked on the door. I had to knock another time before I heard the TV being muted. Then, a moment later, the door opened and a tall, thin kid with dark eyes and hair poked his head out the door. Great, I thought. Of all the motels in all the world I get the one where Norman Bates works.

  I pasted on a smile. “Hi, I need a room for the night.”

  He looked at me and then at Bix, then back at me. He couldn’t have been much more than sixteen or seventeen. I wondered if his parents owned the place.

  “You and your dog?”

  “And my mother.” I looked down at Bix. “The sign says you take small pets.” I lifted him up. “I think he qualifies.”

  “Yeah,” he said, then ran his hand through his hair and shut the door behind him. It occurred to me that he must have been asleep.

  He eyed me again as he opened the registration book. “Sign in here.” Bracing his hands against the counter, he said, “You from around here?”

  “No. Wisconsin.” I signed the book with an alias.

  He turned the book around so he could read it. “Cindy Hutton.” Then he looked up and smiled at me. “I’m Matt Cirico.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I was about to ask how much, when he cocked his chin and studied me as though he’d seen me somewhere.

  “Anybody ever tell you you look like that actress...” He stared down at the counter as though her name might be carved there. “. can’t remember her name.” He looked up again. “The one in the
Star Wars movies.”

  “Carrie Fisher?” Who I look nothing like.

  “No,” he shook his head as though I had guessed badly. “The new ones.”

  “Oh.” Of course. Not my generation’s Star Wars, which I had seen countless times. I had perfected the art of sexual fantasy with Han Solo in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon.

  Matt persisted. “You know. She played Queen Amidala.”

  “Natalie Portman?”

  “Yeah. Her.”

  Okay, I didn’t look like her either. And I wanted to tell him to never assume a woman liked to hear that she resembled a woman fifteen years her junior. If anything, Natalie Portman resembled me.

  He must have sensed my mood, because he quickly added, “In a way.” He kept going. “The first movies were better.”

  “They were,” I agreed, then nodded at the register. “How much?”

  He told me, and I paid in cash.

  “Is there any place around here that delivers pizza at this hour?”

  “Uh,” he furrowed his thick brows. “Yeah. Not sure how much longer. I can give them a call if you like.”

  “No, that’s okay. Just tell me who I can call.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  It had taken me all this time to realize this kid liked older women. Whether they looked like Natalie Portman or not. I decided not to argue further. “Okay. Make it a medium thin crust half pepperoni and half mushroom and onion. Thank you.”

  I glanced behind him at the string of room keys.

  “Can you put us in a room a ways from the office? My mother is quite elderly and she’s a light sleeper.”

  He handed me the key to room eight, which he told me was the end unit.

  As I left I asked him how long he thought it’d be on the pizza.

  “Half hour.”

  “They’ll deliver it to my room?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks again.”

  My mother was still sleeping. I hoped she would continue to do so once I got her in the room. I’d wake her long enough for some pizza and then tuck her in for the night. But I knew she wasn’t much for sleeping at night, so I was prepared for a long one.

  I drove the van down to the room and parked it in a space on the side of the building, less obvious from the road. I decided to leave Sassy in the truck until after the pizza arrived. He was snoozing now. I hoped he didn’t mind waking up and finding himself alone. If he did put up a fuss, being in the end unit, we’d be the first to hear.

  I gave Bix the chance for a pit stop before taking him into the room. He was nearly too agitated to pee. He doesn’t deal with change well.

  The room had two twin beds, stained carpeting and smelled of cigarettes. It made me wonder if it had been cleaned since the ban took effect, but then I decided I didn’t care. I’d stopped at an all-night grocery store for cigarettes and a lighter. I think my mother slept through that pause in our journey, but I was willing to bet that she would ask about them. Well, when she did, her smoking wouldn’t change the room’s ambiance. A Danish modern desk held a lamp with a permanently crooked shade, and a chair that resembled the two in the office, along with a small table wedged between the two beds, rounded out the furniture. But it was only for one night, and we would prevail.

  I left Bix snuffling about and went to get my mother. She woke a little dazed, but when I told her pizza was on its way, she rallied. I deposited her on one of the beds, found a blanket in the closet and covered her with it. In a motel that rented by the hour, there was no way any of us—including Sassy—were letting our bodies touch these sheets.

  “Where’s the ash tray?”

  I felt a stab of guilt sharp enough to make me gasp. Here I was, telling myself I was doing my best for my mother—keeping her in Dryden—and I was bribing her with cigarettes, the thing most responsible for her being there. My palette was running out of gray.

  “You awake enough?”

  “Of course I am.”

  I hunted for an ash tray and wasn’t surprised to find one stashed under the bathroom sink. It was blue plastic and looked like a warped UFO. I gave it to her, along with the pack and some matches.

  When I cracked open the window, she said, not without some sarcasm, “I’ll blow the smoke in that direction.”

  In truth, I’d opened it because I wanted to hear if Sassy started to put up a fuss. But I said, “I’d appreciate that.”

  We were in for a long night. I sat on the bed nearest the door and after a moment, put my feet up on it. The headboard felt hard against my back, but I didn’t move. It was good to just sit and breathe. I closed my eyes.

  “Robyn?”

  “Hmm?”

  She didn’t respond, so after a few moments I opened my eyes and looked at her. Twin streams of smoke exited her nostrils.

  “Why am I here?” she asked. “Why do you have that goat?”

  Bix, who had been traversing the room, nose to the ground, stopped and looked at me, almost as though he, too, wanted some answers.

  I thought if I explained the situation with Jack Landis first, maybe I’d distract her from the goat, which was much, much more difficult to explain.

  “Okay,” I said. “You remember that letter that Robbie sent you?”

  Her eyes widened. “Did you get it back?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.” I swallowed. “That man who played guitar at Dryden—Jack Landis?”

  She nodded.

  Bix had gone back to his frenetic room inspection.

  “He took the letter when he was in your room.”

  “I should have known.”

  “We both should have.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know. He’s looking for something.” I shook my head. “But whatever he was looking for wasn’t in the letter, and he came back for it.”

  “To my place?”

  “No. To my apartment.”

  “Did he do anything to you?”

  “No, Mom. Nothing. But he thinks I know what that something is. And I don’t. I was afraid he’d come and bother you again and, well, I’m convinced he can be a pretty nasty guy when he wants to be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What else did Mary Waltner give you?”

  She shook her head. “I—I can’t remember. Other than the letter.” Her eyes softened at the mention of it, but then she focused again. “That’s all I remember, Robyn. Just the letter. It was so—so much to take in.”

  I nodded. “Do you think there was some kind of code in the letter? Some message that only you would understand?”

  “Well, I don’t think so. It was a long time ago, Robyn. Unless it was something I was supposed to remember. Something that was special to the two of us. Oh, my. How could I forget such a thing?”

  “Maybe that wasn’t it,” I said, sorry that I’d brought it up. “It’s got to be something else.”

  I grabbed my handbag and dug out the envelope. I read the address to her. “Does that mean anything?”

  “Of course not.”

  I nodded. Then I ran my thumb over the stamps. There were four of them: two two-cent stamps with red-headed woodpeckers on them, a ten-cent stamp with an eagle standing on a clock, and a twenty-four-cent stamp with an old-fashioned stunt plane. At least, I assumed it was a stunt plane, seeing as it was upside down.

  “Did Robbie collect stamps?”

  “Well, I don’t remember. He did love old things. Maybe old stamps.” Then she added, “But it’s been a long time.”

  I needed a few minutes on the internet. I didn’t have my computer with me, but I wondered if Matt down in the office might have one I could use. Maybe if I batted my Natalie Portman eyes at him he’d show me his laptop.

  When I left our room, I stepped right into the start of a drunken argument between the man and woman staggering toward room number three. Something about his scuzzy friends. He had so much trouble getting the key in the lock that I didn’t hold out much hope for
their evening.

  Matt was slumped over the counter drinking a soda when I walked in. He perked up when he saw me. “Hey,” he said. “The room okay?”

  “It’s fine,” I assured him. “Would you happen to have an internet connection I could access? Just for a few minutes.” Then I added, “It’s really important.”

  He shrugged and gave me a little smile. “Yeah, sure.” He ducked into the dark room behind the counter and returned a moment later with a notebook computer, screen facing me. “It’s wireless. Want me to sign you on to my account?”

  “I’d really appreciate it.”

  He grinned as he logged onto the computer.

  I pictured the stamp, which was in my back pocket along with the envelope it was adhered to, and typed in “stunt airplane postage stamp” and hit the return.

  I scrolled down the page, looking for something about an upside down plane and a postage stamp. I tried Googling “upside down airplane postage stamp.”

  A few seconds later the page filled with sites. Bingo. I clicked on a promising hit and when the page assembled, there was the stamp. As I read the news story, my breathing slowed, and then the universe slowed, too. Even the chill that gripped my shoulders took its time creeping down my spine.

  Matt said something, but I couldn’t make it out.

  Was it too late to take back the last four hours?

  “You okay?”

  I heard Matt that time.

  With a nod, I severed the connection and closed the computer. “Thanks, a lot. Just something I needed to check out.” I glanced at my watch. “Pizza ought to be here soon?”

  “Sure. I told them to put a rush on it.”

  “Thanks.” I managed a smile. “My mother isn’t patient when it comes to pepperoni.”

  I walked back to our room, almost oblivious to the sounds coming from unit number three. I had my key in number eight’s lock, when a firm hand on my shoulder nearly made my knees give way. I sensed it wasn’t the pizza delivery guy.

  “We weren’t done yet, Robyn.”

  I looked over my shoulder and up at Jack Landis. Something hard dug into my spine. “Open the door.”

  I didn’t see that I had a choice.

  When we walked in, my mother looked up from the television. “Where’s the pizza?”