Alpaca My Bags

by Violet Patton

  Over the years, with Philly’s frequent job hopping, we had lived in several small Texas towns until he got his big break and we moved to San Fran. I never complained about the moves, loving the adventure. He left the Chronicle with full retirement benefits, so we were set. Real estate in our part of town hit a record high and selling the house was a boon.

  Scottsdale would’ve been more comfortable. What was with Philly moving to the asphalt jungle?

  Getting dressed in my nightie, I called from the bedroom. “Sweetie Bastard. I think we need a new hot water heater. Philly?”

  No answer. Had he checked out while I took a cold shower?

  I went through the galley kitchen in a flash. The Cheerios and scotch were gone, and he was missing. Stomping my foot made the whole park model shake. “I knew it. You’ve run off with a domino dominatrix.”

  Chapter Nine

  David Bell

  I changed back into my sweaty clothes and marched over to Madonna’s door and banged on it. I wasn’t wasting time timidly knocking? She didn’t answer. Philly wouldn’t be at her house; her boobs weren’t big enough.

  I walked down her steps and stood in the street. Nobody. Quiet as a cemetery. Blinds shut tight. In the distance, golf carts whirred, going somewhere. A dog barked.

  Along the way, the complex designers decided the streets needed drainage and took a big shortcut by plowing a furrow. You can tell I’m a country girl because a city girl, a San Fran socialite, wouldn’t have figured the dip in the road was a furrow; albeit it was a paved rut.

  A trickle of precious water ran in the furrow. In San Fran it rained almost every day. Water was a golden commodity, and we never wasted a drop. To see that trickle of water swimming down the street irked my good senses. Some idiot was washing their golf cart, wasting water. While I was in the shopping center, I had noticed the golf cart repair center also had a golf cart wash bay. I bet there’s a rule about washing your golf cart, letting golden water wash away frivolously.

  I followed the water upstream.

  The rut made walking wonky, but it would run perfectly underneath a narrow golf cart. I had to hop back and forth or hop along like one leg was shorter than the other. To keep myself occupied, I read the names hanging outside each park model—Odell. Thompson. Franklin. Davis. An American smorgasbord of middle class living—if you can call a park model middle class.

  I found the headwaters to the trickle of water in the furrow. I shaded my eyes, glaring into a dark carport with water running down its driveway. Again, I left home without the visor or sunglasses Madonna gave me. “Hey? Don’t you know better than to do that?” I’m making it a rule—never leave home without sunglasses and a hat.

  “Do what?” A man growled. I shaded my eyes but I couldn’t see him.

  “Wasting water.”

  “Go away.”

  This moron lives in a desert. Doesn’t he know how precious water was?

  “No. I won’t allow it.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  Somewhere in the depths of his carport, he hid in the shadows. I noticed his nice Arizona room addition. Shade cloths covered the open side of the carport. An orange tree laden with ready to pick oranges sat beside his front door.

  “I’m new. Bunny Winters.”

  “I hate people.” That sounded like a challenge.

  I took another step closer. “Don’t come any closer.”

  I eased up an inch. “I’m tryin’ to be neighborly.” Somewhere in the nearby vicinity was the faucet. Maybe if I dashed, twisted off the faucet and run like hell he wouldn’t notice, I’m nimble, I could do it.

  “Don’t think about it.” A sprinkle of water splashed near my ankles, but didn’t hit me.

  He was onto me.

  “Have you seen my husband?”

  “Nope.”

  I bit my lip, shaded my eyes and took another teensy step. “He might’ve been with Wanda. She was over last night and…”

  A shadowy figure moved in the deep dark depths of the carport. “What did you say?” This joker might be a goatsucker, you never can tell. They come in all sizes and sexes. Daddy said they weren’t discriminating on their choice of disguises.

  I took a step back into the furrow and almost lost my balance. “Philly Winters. Skinny. Ugly. Loves dominos and scotch. Maybe drunk. He had scotch with his Cheerios.”

  He came out of the shadows. “Lady, you’re talking smack. Drunk Philly couldn’t have been with Wanda.” Despite his gruff tone, he wasn’t a bad-looking fellow.

  Bad disposition though, but I had to expect a bad apple in this wagonload of Oasis humanity. He disappeared into the shadows. The trickle of water lessened. Good thing I didn’t shut off the valve.

  I turned to go, but he walked toward me.

  “C’mere.” He crooked a finger. “Come sit a spell. I’ll get water. You look dehydrated.”

  I glanced up and down the deserted street. Nobody. If I sat a spell with him, and he kidnapped me, no one would know what happened to me. Considering Security Chief didn’t care that much for Philly and Bunny Winters, he wouldn’t look for me. He would be on his own—alone—with Wanda.

  He waited as I pondered his invite. “What’s your name?”

  “David. Bell. Wanda you say?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You saw her?” He hitched his chin toward the shade.

  “Yep. Talked to her?”

  “C’mon. You gotta tell me what Wanda said.”

  Was David Bell her new beau? I mean other than Philly. He was her new beau, David was her old beau. It’s complicated but worth investigating.

  He stepped back into the carport, produced a bottle of water, cranked off its lid, handing it over. David Bell had to be harmless. Or he was Dan’s murderer? I took the water bottle; it was cold.

  “Okay. I can sit a spell.” I’m easily swayed. The perfect victim for a serial murderer.

  “Come up here.” David jerked his chin toward his veranda. “I got a fan.”

  A fan and cold water sounded like a winner.

  His plastic white patio chairs were newish. The rungs didn’t bite into the back of my legs as I sat, letting him stare me down.

  I don’t like to describe people, but I’m gonna give David a go.

  First thing, he had a scar running up his chin into his temple. He shaved his dark hair close, and a thick roped scar ran up his head into a hollow place at the spot where his skull went around to the back of his head.

  I stared, mushing my lips so I wouldn’t say anything stupid.

  He said, “I shot myself.”

  “I see.” I hacked into the crook of my elbow. “Interesting.” He didn’t flinch, and I didn’t pry. I did not want to know why, how or when David did that deed.

  David said, “Tell me about Wanda.”

  Hmm. Where do I start? “Like I said Wanda—”

  “You haven’t said,” he said, smiling. Was his smile evil or friendly?

  That’s how goatsuckers act, coyly winning over their innocent goat victims.

  More lip mushing. I couldn’t tell David about both Wanda incidents, but he had invited me to sit next to his nice blowing box fan. “Like I said she knocked on our door. After five-thirty. Jeopardy was over.” I put the water bottle next to my crotch between my legs… it was extra refreshing.

  David leaned back and grabbed his chin. “And?”

  “Sweetie… Philly let her in. She told us how much she loved her old house better than the new. Said she lived across the street.” I thumbed over my shoulder.

  David’s gaze followed my thumb. “Yeah?”

  “She didn’t stay long… acted strange. That’s all.”

  “What made you think he would go somewhere with her today?”

  Ah-ha. David knows she’s a wanton woman, hitting on the new men who move into the park. Not only did she have the boobs to man-grab, but she was a talker, too. Men love women with jiggly boobs who talk, it distracts them from figuring out they’re clos
e to being groped.

  I ran a finger along my neckline. “This morning… my man… ah… met her outside. I saw them together. She talked. He stretched, grinning like a goatsucker about to jump on an innocent goat.”

  He winced. “Eh… a what?”

  “Goatsucker.” I stared into his eyes.

  “Uh-uh. Where was he going?” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “To pickleball. Are you a detective?”

  “Nope, I’m a plumber. That’s why I shot myself. Couldn’t stand the depth of the shit I was in.”

  Lunatic came to mind. I know how to find them. Ask Philly, I attract crazy SOB’s everywhere we go. Once we went to Monterey and a homeless man adopted me.

  “Do you know her?”

  David nodded. “Did.”

  I shrugged. “Did? Do?”

  “Everyone on this street knows everyone else. We’re one big freakin’ happy family.” He spread his arms wide. Freakin’ and happy together sounded ominous. He was joking, wasn’t he?

  I swiped sweat off my upper lid. David turned the box fan more in my direction.

  “You said she came to visit you?”

  I wiggled, adjusting because the plastic chair now grabbed my behind. My cold bottle of water simmered between my legs.

  “I’m so new here I don’t the rules. He’s lost. Someone shanghaied him into playing dominos. She got him a seat at the table after Dan died.”

  He switched the fan to a higher gear. The drone of the blades soothed my angst, and I sat back. David’s porch was on the east side of his house, the sun was off the porch. It was twenty degrees cooler in his shade than anywhere else in the Oasis.

  “Nobody can hear you; tell me what you know about Wanda.”

  I puckered up. Something told me to keep quiet. David’s eyes looked inviting, mesmerizing, like a rattlesnake.

  “I think she’s captured my husband.” What did I just say? I’m such a dunce.

  David’s chin did a triple dip. He scrubbed his upper lid; he used his fingers to hide his lips. “Lady? What did you say your name was?”

  Whoops. Mistake. David wasn’t cool with my answer. I needed Madonna to whiz past and rescue me with her golf cart.

  “Bunny Winters.”

  David’s gaze peered deep into mine. He bit his lip. “Huh? When did Wanda visit you?”

  “Our first night in,” I said in instead of here because it felt like we were let in—like going into prison, but I didn’t elaborate on the wording.

  He nodded.

  “She said she was lonesome for her stuff. I mean… that pink wallpaper is awfully ugly. But to each their own. Right?” I shrugged because David’s gaze gave me the willies.

  Mama always said the willies meant someone was walkin’ over her grave. I couldn’t understand how a living person might walk over her own grave. But then, Mama loved her religion and superstitions, quoting wives’ tales and warding off evil spirits. Was that why I told Gale I was a spiritual counselor? Was she guiding me from her grave? She claimed I had a nature about me—that I could see the future, but I didn’t believe it. If I could tell the future, I would’ve set my foot down about moving to Arizona. I could’ve hedged Philly off at the pass and saved us a lot of hardship and angst.

  “Where did you go?” David knocked on the arm of my chair.

  “Oh, sorry. Please don’t knock on wood.”

  “It isn’t wood. It’s plastic.” He knocked again.

  “She was nice. I don’t think she’s captured him. He’s trying to fit into the group. I don’t care if he plays dominos.” I nodded to convince myself.

  “He bought the park model from Wanda’s estate.” He didn’t move a muscle. I absorbed his words.

  I took a good thirty seconds to ask, “What d’you say?”

  “Wanda is dead.” He did not crack a smile.

  Gathering my wits, I sat like David’s patio chair was a toadstool. I couldn’t leap off. One thing was for sure, the next time I saw running water, wasting away in the furrow, I’d keep my mouth shut. You never know where water will lead you or where it’s coming from.

  David graciously allowed my moment. I ran through the recent events, thinking and double checking to make sure I understood what transpired between me, Philly and Wanda. She came into our house, which she claimed was her former abode and she interacted with us in a friendly, but very flirtatious manner. Philly didn’t say much and focused on Candy Crush. When I asked about her, he ignored me, but he’s got me on ignore all the time.

  “Hard to swallow.”

  David nodded. “Wanda died a good six years ago. I… I think it was spring. Before the summer, for sure.”

  I have pulled jokes on folks, but I can call this old crow black. David is full of a load… “And what does she look like?”

  David caught on. “You’re testing me. Listen, I adored her. Nobody loved her more than me. She had a heart as big as her…”

  “Nope. Don’t say it.” I puckered because I would not hear him say boobs. I needed him to tell me what Wanda was like, not the other way around. I might be from Odessa, but I could feed him the information he needed to make me believe his lies.

  “Years ago, someone murdered her in your park model. The police never solved her case.”

  When wasn’t this tidbit revealed when we bought the trailer? Looks like someone would’ve said oh by the way she haunts your new home.

  David sat back, folding his arms across his chest giving my gray matter time to process his words.

  “You know what? I gotta go home. Philly will be back soon. We’ve… our PODS arrived. I have unpacking to do.”

  David stood. “I understand. The news is heavy. I mean… if she visited you. Sorry I had to tell you… I mean somebody shoulda.”

  “Yeah right.” I didn’t dawdle on his veranda or say goodbye. I ran along the furrow, following it home.

  He called after me, “Nice meeting you.”

  I fast-walked back home to Wanda’s house. That golden stream of runaway water had evaporated. David’s place was only a few park models away from ours, but it took forever to get back.

  Madonna’s golf cart sat in her carport and she had shut her blinds.

  Out of breath, I snapped the door closed and leaned against it, grateful Philly had disappeared. Two-fold, glad he was out of my hair and glad I didn’t need to explain what I had learned. Before I can confront what David told me, I needed more details. Somewhere within the Oasis, someone else knew more about Wanda.

  Chapter Ten

  A Deluxe Golf Cart

  I sat on our veranda, drinking leftover sweet iced tea, swinging my leg, perturbed as all get out. The Oasis sounded and felt deserted. Where were my nosy neighbors?

  When I got home from David’s I went inside to get iced tea. Even with the AC unit running full blast the air felt steamy and stifling.

  I filled Wanda’s biggest glass with ice and sweet tea, grabbed the scotch bottle, a small glass for him and headed outside. A willie climbed my spine. Was I walking over Wanda’s grave? I hate the willies. Thank you, mama very much.

  With or without the busted AC the place was uninhabitable.

  Living outside in the blazin’ heat would be impossible. I need a box fan like David’s blowing away my jumbled thoughts.

  I rattled through the events twice, tossed them into the air, when they landed the facts hadn’t changed. There’s one thing for sure—I don’t believe David Bell. He concocted that cock-n-bull story to chide me because I chastised him about wasting water.

  The truth is I’ve got a dead athletic director, a philandering husband and nothing to do, except to think crazy. I’ve thought crazy before, it’s nothing but trouble.

  Boredom doesn’t behoove me either, I get crazier with boredom.

  I had, over the years, taken part-time jobs in San Fran. Nothing important. A receptionist in an insurance company. Answering telephones. I never waited tables or washed dishes, I did plenty of that at home. We had a d
eal. I did nothing that interfered with the deal. He worked—I cooked and washed the dishes. A pressman’s job, especially in a high-end newspaper like the Chronicle was high-stress. The last thing he needed was my daily whine about my hard job. We’re old fashioned. He brought home the bacon, and since bacon is one of my favorite foods—I fried it up in a pan.

  I was ready to make another mistake, something like charging over and banging on Wanda’s door, kitty-cornered across the street, when Sweetie Bastard whirred into our carport riding in a brand spanking new golf cart.

  Thank goodness I didn’t go look for the old man.

  Delighted as all get out, I stood putting my hands on my hips. “Bout time you came back.”

  Philly said, “I knew you’d be mad. Golf cart’s here.”

  “Ain’t I always?” I grinned at the shiny thing. “It’s deluxe, ain’t it?”

  Good thing it’s pretty, because I wasn’t having a dingy cart to toot about in. I envisioned an emblazoned Arizona sunset painted across its side panels.

  People will notice when we arrive in style.

  He climbed the steps. “The golf cart shop called while you were showering. They picked me up. I had to go right then.” Gosh, I wish he would’ve hollered and saved me from running into David.

  He took off his hat, unbuttoned his shirt, hitched up his shorts, breathed deeply, sat and poured a hefty splash of scotch. Good thing I put out his bottle after I came home. He took a drink and swished it like mouthwash. I’ve done that before, it kills germs before it kills brain cells. One in the same if you ask me.

  We sat, and I said, “It needs bells—big cowbells.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” He didn’t say yeah or nay about the bells but rattled off the cart’s attributes. “I’ll teach you to drive it. It’s different from the Caddy.”

  “Sure.” I folded my arms.

  “Here.” He pulled two photo ID name badges from his shirt pocket. “I brought you something. Don’t go out without it.”