Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries

by Barbara Silkstone

  “I will be when this Amazon lets me go.”

  “Pack up that camera and get your posterior out of here,” Athena said. “Jamal, you want to show Tweety Bird here the door?”

  “You are going to be looking at one hefty lawsuit, both of you,” Sybil said. “Look at this mark on my wrist.”

  “You can stop the blind act now, Reverend Cady.” Fatima sat down next to Cady on the bed.

  “Bless you, child.” Cady was still trying to get her breath. “You were certainly the dea ex machina, coming in with that rap act.”

  “Dea-ex-say-what?”

  “That's Latin. Literally it means the goddess out of the machine—it's what the ancient Roman storytellers called it when some goddess or god would come out of nowhere to save the day. Sybil can explain it to you better than I. She was a Classics major, as I remember. Back when we used to be friends.”

  What had happened to Sybil over the years? Had she always been so nasty?

  “I learned that trick from Power.” Fatima laughed. “When you want to get the media out of your face, you do something so funky they can't go public with it. Sorry I took so long. I couldn't find this outfit.”

  “Yeah, well, put some clothes on now, okay?” Athena said. “Ms. Diaz-what's-your-face, the Reverend will see you out. Come on LadyFat. You're gonna catch cold, girl.”

  Cady listened as the two women walked down the hall, then spoke into the darkness where she sensed Sybil's malevolent presence.

  “I'm afraid I can't see anyone anywhere, Sybil. The blindness is no act. It comes and goes. Right now, it's come. From the stress of this ridiculous ambush, I'm sure. Why did you do it? You made us both look like fools. Why were you asking all those bizarre questions about Regina's pregnancy? You know she had an abortion. You're the one who arranged for it. I just read about it in her diary.”

  “Her diary? You have Regina's diary? Where?” Sybil gripped Cady's wrist in a bony hand.

  The door slammed open.

  “Don't you touch the Reverend like that,” Jamal said. “Reverend? We got a situation. A police situation. They think we got hostages in here. We gotta let them in right now. Things are about to hit the fan.”

  Sybil didn't let go.

  “I need to see those diaries, Cady. Now.”

  “What's so important about the diaries? I've been reading them all day, and I haven't found anything you'd be interested in.”

  “Reverend, the police…”

  “Shut up, boy,” Sybil said. “Cady, didn't you find out about the child? Where is that child now—the daughter of Regina and your brother Leroy? I'm going to stay here until you tell me.”

  “Okay, lady,” Jamal said. “If I tell you where Princess Regina's daughter is, will you go? Cause she's right here in the back bedroom with Fatima, helping her get dressed.”

  “What are you on about?” Sybil said.

  “I'm on about Athena.” Jamal's voice went edgy. “She just told the world on every network but yours. You must be the only folks who don't know: Athena's birth mother was Princess Regina. Her father was your brother, Reverend Cady. Athena found her birth certificate in one of those diaries you ladies have been reading.”

  Cady let out a gasp. That was why Athena had run off to find a phone. She'd found a birth certificate in Regina's diary—hers. So she'd called someone in New Jersey for confirmation.

  Athena was her niece. Her bald, androgynous, lesbian niece—Regina's daughter. Family. They were all family now, for real.

  “Let go of me, you gorilla!” Sybil shrieked at Jamal.

  The woman must be mentally ill. It made no sense that she was so desperate to find Athena. She couldn't very well do Athena's story without the cameraman, who was being ushered outside.

  Or was he? No—he seemed to be back, shouting even louder than Sybil.

  “The roof,” he called from the hallway. “I gotta get the camera out on the roof. How do I get there? Big stuff is coming down.”

  “What big stuff? Power? Is Mr. Magee coming home?” Cady said.

  “Try Elvis landing on the roof in a UFO!”

  Chapter 47—Cady: Hostages

  As everyone went shrieking down the hallway toward the stairs to the roof, Cady found herself alone in the dark.

  Her head hurt, but she felt she needed to follow. Something about Sybil's interest in Athena seemed frightening—dangerous.

  She felt for the door, opened it and moved along the railing and down the hall. Above her she heard Fatima's giggle and the whir of what might have been a distant helicopter. Maybe it was Tyrone coming home. Whatever else had come of this nonsense, she knew Fatima was right. Tyrone did respect women in his own way. In some ways, he respected women more than she herself did, with her diet pills and self-hatred from the abortion. And Fatima was obviously not his mistress. She wanted him to be with Cady. That felt good.

  The whirring grew louder. She couldn't tell now if it was coming from the roof or the inside of her own head. She carefully made her way down the hall, as the noises outside grew louder. She hoped she was heading in the right direction—toward the stairs that led to Tyrone's studio. She'd seen a door up there that might lead out to the roof. That must be where everyone had gone.

  But the sound of heavy, thumping footsteps froze her where she stood. Someone was coming down the hallway toward her.

  “Cady Stanton, you look fabulous with your hair like that. No wonder you snagged a hottie like Power Magee.”

  Cady swung around. The voice was warm and familiar—a voice she'd known since childhood. A voice she loved.

  Regina.

  Cady felt cool, damp arms around her, and a soft cheek pressed against hers. She tried to hug Regina back, but her head was dizzy and muscles weak.

  Her eyes saw light again as the blindness ebbed again. She stood back, hoping to see her sister, not dead. Regina—alive and well.

  She didn't. She saw Elvis. Elvis with a large cast on his rather dainty leg. And startlingly beautiful, lavender-blue eyes.

  “No! Cady run!” said Elvis, looking with horror at something behind her.

  Cady swung around to see Athena emerging from the bedroom. There was a terrible popping sound.

  A gunshot.

  Sybil appeared in the doorway. In her hand was a small, black gun.

  Athena stumbled and fell on the floor of the hallway.

  Sybil aimed the gun to shoot again.

  No!” Elvis-Regina screamed, hobbling to stand between the gun and the prostrate Athena. “No. You will not kill my daughter. You'll have to shoot me first. Yes, Sybil it's me.”

  Sybil lowered the gun and aimed at Regina.

  “I hate to get bloodstains on that lovely white leather, dear, but you're expendable. After all, you're already dead. It was a lovely funeral. But I have to take this one with me, dead or alive.”

  She pointed at Athena's inert body at her feet. Blood was spreading in a dark pool on the carpet.

  A high-pitched whistling noise startled them all.

  “Quiet!” Sybil said. “What the hell was that?”

  Another whistle pierced the silence. Cady's eyes burned and the acrid stench of tear gas filled the air. She leaned against the wall for support.

  Outside, somebody shouted through a bullhorn.

  “Release the hostages and come out now with your hands up!”

  “Regina, you're such a fool,” Sybil said. “You had to go and get fat. Titiana does not allow competition. I thought you knew that.”

  She raised the gun.

  Cady watched in horror as Regina slumped to the floor.

  At the same moment, the voice from the bullhorn boomed from outside.

  “Release the Princess and the Congresswoman now! We know you're in there!”

  With a roar of fury, Athena sprang to life. Her arm clutched the wound on her shoulder but with a dancer's grace, her leg kicked the gun from Sybil's hand. She grinned at Cady's shock.

  “Playing possum. Don't need military tra
ining for that—just growing up in the projects. Reverend, you want to pick up that gun?”

  “Don't be absurd.” Sybil swiped at her own eyes. “The woman is blind.” She bent to reach for the gun, but with another quick, graceful movement, Athena produced a weapon of her own—one of Tyrone's wooden goddesses she'd hidden under her robe. She gripped it by the feet with her good arm and brought the huge belly down on the back of Sybil's head.

  Sybil gave a pig-like grunt as she fell in a bony heap at Athena's feet.

  Chapter 48—Cady: Elvis Leaves the Building

  Cady's eyes blurred and burned, but she could still see.

  Jamal and Fatima came running down the stairs from the roof, coughing. Athena handed the statue to Cady.

  “You get yourself out of here, Reverend,” she said. “I gotta help my mama.”

  Fatima and Jamal helped Cady down to the first floor, and outside, into the cool evening air. Her eyes stung, but she could breathe again.

  She stood clutching the wooden goddess like a club, gasping for air.

  “So that's what you think of my art work?” said a deep voice.

  “Tyrone!” He stood behind a yellow police barrier, grinning.

  Cady ran to him. “You came back from San Montinaro pretty quick.”

  “Never got there. I heard that society witch saying we're an item, you and me. I figured I better come back and find out if it's true.”

  Cady felt her face flush. He hugged her close.

  Cameras moved in around them. She didn't care.

  But a roar from the helicopter commanded everyone's attention as it lifted off the roof. Elvis—dressed in black leather—waved from it as the machine rose into the darkening twilight.

  “Was that really…?” Somebody said.

  “It's a promo for my new CD.” Fatima gave a big grin at the cameramen.

  A moment later, Athena ran out the front door, carrying a coughing Regina.

  Regina looked up and waved at the disappearing helicopter as Athena set her down.

  “Athena dear, we've got to get you to a hospital!” Regina said. “There's blood all over you.”

  “I got worse than this in the Gulf, Momma.” Athena kept grinning in spite of the obvious pain in her shoulder.

  The cameras moved in closer. Fatima grabbed somebody's microphone.

  “The Elvis impersonators are here to promote my new CD. I'm covering one of his songs.”

  “You're doing a rap version of Elvis?” said a reporter.

  “Yeah. I'm doing 'In The Ghetto',” Fatima said without missing a beat. “But we're done now. Elvis has left the building.”

  “You called out the SWAT team for an advertising gimmick?” said another reporter. “Are they real cops or actors?”

  “They most certainly are real, and they've done a great job of capturing a real killer,” Tyrone said.

  He gestured at the officers now coming from the house with a moaning Sybil on a stretcher, leading a coughing, handcuffed Tweety Bird.

  “That lady is the notorious Queen of Clubs.”

  Fatima expertly worked the media as Tyrone helped Regina and Athena to safety.

  “Good to meet you, Mr. Magee,” Regina said. “I understand you've been to my funeral? Was it nice?”

  “I didn't make it. Sorry. As soon as I found out who Sybil was, I rushed back here. Are you all right, Princess?”

  “Yes. I just tripped over this silly foot when Sybil was waving that awful gun around. Hard to pay attention to things when some assassin is about to shoot you.”

  Cady was still trying to sort things out.

  “Tyrone, how on earth did you find out Sybil was the Queen of Clubs?”

  Tyrone lowered his voice.

  “Mikhail Moscowitz phoned and told me what was going down. So I got on a plane to L.A. instead of San Montinaro. Darius had things there under control, anyway. Flo's on her way home.”

  “Mikhail?” Cady said. “The other Elvis in the helicopter—that's your spy, Regina?”

  Regina nodded.

  “He used to do some security work for me,” Tyrone said. “Say, Cady, I caught your act on the Sybil show on the TV in the limo. You were ice-cool with that witch. So were your two girlfriends over there.”

  Fatima was giving Athena a romantic kiss.

  “Yes, those ladies are very special,” Cady said to Tyrone. “I guess I gotta figure the Lord likes Him a little diversity. Not everybody can be the same.”

  “I wouldn't mind a whole universe of Cady Stantons,” Tyrone grinned.

  “Watch yourself, Mr. Power…” she started to say. Then she couldn't speak any more, because her lips were covered with a kiss as sweet as a piece of her mama's Angel Pie.

  Chapter 49—Regina: Queen of the Wild Things

  Three months later, Regina lay on the canopied bed in the royal bedchamber at Castelghiacciolo, in a state of exhaustion. She desperately needed sleep, but her brain whirled with the endless details she had to deal with before Cady and Power's wedding on Monday.

  Monday. Less than forty-eight hours away. A major media event. Besides five hundred of the most important people in film, politics and world religion, thousands of reporters would have to be housed and fed and publicly related to with appropriate deference and decorum. Cady herself was arriving at ten tomorrow morning, and there was still so much… oh, she had to stop thinking about it!

  Thank goodness for Athena and Fatima. Without them she would never have been able to orchestrate such an event with Titiana off in a Moscow prison awaiting trial for stealing that nuclear bomb. She may have been a murderous international criminal mastermind dealing in weapons of mass destruction, but no one on the planet could match her chocolate marzipan truffle torte.

  Luckily, dear Athena was a marvel at organization, and Fatima was a dream with the palace staff. She was even letting Tarquino and Max, Jr. perform with her band at the reception.

  Everything would have been lovely, if she could only hear something from Mikhail.

  Disappearing acts were part of the whole spy persona, but she did wish he'd at least stayed around to celebrate Sybil D.D.'s arrest.

  But he hadn't reappeared since he'd taken off in that stealth helicopter thing, which had been explained away as part of Fatima's “video shoot.”

  Everyone seemed happy to go along with the official government version of events—that Regina's death had been staged by international terrorists who stole her away to California—and that the daring raid by the Beverly Hills SWAT team had saved the day.

  Well, Power Magee let on that he would have preferred to tell the truth, but he knew the real story was too involved for the attention span of the TV news demographic.

  He said as long as the police weren't going to stink up his house with tear gas again, he was willing to sacrifice a principle or two.

  Fatima said she'd like the public to know it was Athena, and not the police, who stopped Sybil, but Athena said they'd be fools to mess with something that made all Lady Fatima's CDs go platinum in the space of a month.

  Cady said she'd argued with everybody for a bit, but after Power proposed, she had other things to think about. The two of them were pretty busy now getting their drug treatment program established in Roxbury, and writing the script for a movie about Cady's family called Stradivarius Pie.

  Regina was startled from her drifting thoughts by heavy rapping at her bedroom door.

  “Surprise!” Fatima said as she and Athena burst in. “Look who got an earlier flight out of Boston.”

  In walked Cady. She was up to her pre-diet size, but she glowed.

  “I hope this doesn't disrupt your plans, Regina,” she said. “At the last minute, Flo talked Tyrone's Gramma into coming to the wedding, but our flight tomorrow was full, and I hated to send either of those old ladies alone on an earlier flight, so, I took it myself.”

  Regina squeezed her sister in a big hug.

  “So Tyrone's Gramma has finally forgiven him?” Regina said.
r />   “Yes, and she's almost forgiven me for moving my talk show from GBA to Public Television. It's a lot less money, but I'll be taping in Boston, so I can stay in my parish. Tyrone will have to commute to the Coast when he's working on a film, but he says he doesn't mind. He loves being back in the neighborhood.”

  Cady was looking around the room like a little kid at a carnival.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “This room has so much going on.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Fatima had looked at the room in much the same way when she'd arrived a week ago. “Those paintings on the walls and ceilings are called frescoes. They were painted by Ludovico Carracci, who was one of three famous painting brothers around the late 1600's. I'm getting a college education just hanging out here.”

  “Those are some sexy fat ladies, aren't they?” said Athena. “Stay here a little while and you're never gonna be ashamed to show a little cellulite at the beach.”

  Cady scrutinized the frescoes.

  “Titiana!” she said. “They could all be portraits of her, couldn't they?”

  She walked to the center panel, and stood before the seductive, chestnut haired goddess on the wall.

  “This one especially…” She stopped herself. “Oh, where are my manners? I know you and Max are trying to patch things up…”

  “That's Artemis, the goddess of the hunt—queen of the wild things,” Fatima said, obviously proud of her newly acquired knowledge. “See, that's why she's got all these deers and birds and animals around her. And yes, those two ladies are kissing. Being a lesbian was not such a big deal in those days.”

  “Don't start, LadyFat.” Athena gave a glance at Cady.

  Regina looked up at the painting and laughed again. Cady was absolutely right. Why hadn't she ever noticed? The truth—the real truth—had been staring at her from her own bedroom walls all these years; through the seductive glances of those half-clad, lush-bodied nymphs, who bounced about with lions and stags and fierce-looking boars, their plump fingers tossing flowers at the feet of their queenly, full-bodied goddess.

  “I wish somebody had pointed that out to me a couple of decades ago, Cady,” Regina said. “I have been so blind. Titiana was controlling everything from the moment I arrived here. She'd been Max's mistress for years, and she was already a trained criminal when she seduced him at the age of fifteen or whatever she was.”