by A W Hartoin
“Tiny?”
“How about I take him with me? Dad sent him to bodyguard me at Cairngorms.”
Chuck’s shoulders relaxed. “That works. Millicent and Myrtle won’t mind losing their temp chauffeur?”
“I doubt it.”
We agreed and I jogged away down Hawthorne Avenue before Chuck could think of a reason Tiny wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t know where Fats was, but I had no doubt she was lurking somewhere. If a uniform got a load of her, Chuck would be all over me. It would probably take all of three minutes to find out who she worked for and I’d be screwed.
I’d have to figure out what to do with Tiny. He worked for Dad and right then, he was chauffeuring The Girls, since Chuck had discovered their new chauffeur was a pedophile and arrested him. Would Tiny’s loyalty be to me, his beloved cousin, or to my dad, signer of the paycheck?
I dropped the iron crow knocker and heard the heavy plinking noise that echoed off the high walls of the Bled mansion for a second time.
No answer. My stomach started to twist and I let myself in through the over-sized front doors and called out, “Hello? Millicent? Myrtle?”
I turned back to the security panel. It had been armed and no doors had been open for the last hour.
“Tiny?” I yelled, my voice going high-pitched with fear.
I headed for the kitchen with my heart in my throat, but before I got five steps, a voice called down from the second floor, “Miss Mercy!”
Leaning over the second floor landing was The Girls’ housekeeper, Joy. Her long brown hair tinged with grey was falling out of the neat French twist that she perpetually wore. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
“Why?”
“The Girls are in an absolute panic. I’ve never seen them like this. Not even poor Lester’s murder got them this upset.”
“Are they upstairs?” I asked.
“No. I’m packing bags for them,” said Joy.
“Where are they going?”
“The hospital.”
“With bags?”
Joy grimaced. “I think they plan on staying for the duration.”
“They can’t stay at the hospital,” I said. “It’s not a hotel.”
“It’s whatever they want it to be. The family are big donors.”
I groaned. Mom let in Aunt Miriam, but that was no guarantee that she’d let in The Girls. It would break their hearts if Mom said no. It broke Aunt Miriam’s heart to be refused at first and I was pretty sure her heart was made of titanium or whatever they used for the space shuttles reentering the atmosphere. The Girls weren’t nearly so tough.
“I’ll take care of it,” I called up to her.
“Please do. It’s not good for them to be so upset.”
“Where are they?”
Tiny came around the corner at the end of the long hall and said, “The left conservatory.”
“I’ll keep packing, just in case,” said Joy and she disappeared, probably making lists of hats and shoes in her head. The Girls didn’t go anywhere with fewer than five suitcases each. All weather and social situations must be planned for and tragedy might occur. I had a full wardrobe upstairs in my room for traveling with them. It included designers like Valentino and John Galliano. Those clothes were way too fancy for real life and they remained safely tucked away in their wardrobe.
Tiny trotted down the hall. “Joy told you?”
“Yeah. Kinda losing it?”
“They’re in there cutting flowers like they’re for the Rose Parade.”
“So a lot then?”
“Girl, this is crazy.” My cousin wiped the beaded up sweat on his dark brow. “They had me bring all the vases in the house. Did you know that they have fifty-two vases?”
We walked through the house to the large arched doors that opened into the conservatory. “I never counted. They seriously filled fifty-two vases?”
“They working on it. There ain’t a flower left in the garden and now they at the orchids.”
“Not the orchids. You can’t cut orchids.”
“I know, but they aren’t listening to me,” said Tiny.
I grabbed the wrought iron door handle and asked, “Are they crying?”
“That’s the one thing they aren’t doing. Not a tear. Just flower cutting and ordering baking supplies. They ordered ten pounds of that special Brittany butter they love. What the hell they gonna do with ten pounds of butter?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing pounding will be involved.” I opened the door and a rush of hot, humid air hit me. Butterflies flitted between banana trees and prehistoric looking ferns.
“I’m not going in. I gotta go rent a van,” said Tiny. “You got to calm them down.”
“A van?”
“For takin’ fifty-two vases to the hospital. What do you think?”
“Hold off on that.”
He stopped dialing his phone. “Yeah?”
“We’ll have to do something with all those flowers, but I have to think. Mom’s room isn’t big enough for ten vases, much less fifty-two.”
“I got ya,” said Tiny. “Still not going in. I’m sweating already.”
“Go get some water. I’ll…do something.”
I walked into the conservatory, instantly feeling my hair start to curl in the humidity. The soft patter of my godmothers’ voices led me to the far corner of the conservatory. Darkness was rapidly descending and the enormous glassed-in room was fully lit, highlighting all the ironwork that held up the three-story glass walls.
“We must find out,” said Millicent.
“Tommy will, but it can’t be,” said Myrtle.
“It’s happened before under this very roof.”
“Dear Lester.”
I stopped walking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just did it. I stood behind a potted palm and held my breath.
“They wouldn’t go after our Carolina,” said Myrtle.
Someone blew their nose and Millicent said, “They murdered Lester and for nothing. He couldn’t tell them anything and neither can Carolina.”
“They murdered Lester out of frustration. It wasn’t planned. Carolina—”
“If only we hadn’t interfered.”
There was the scrape of a heavy pot being dragged. “It isn’t our fault. We love them.”
“But if our love led them to Carolina…and Mercy.”
“Mercy is safe. No one knows.”
“Dearest,” said Millicent. “I don’t think it matters anymore. We loved her too much. The world has noticed.”
Another scrape. “I suppose you’re right. But they must give up sometime. All these years. All of these deaths to no avail. They won’t find it,” said Myrtle.
“They’ll never give up,” said Millicent. “We should’ve understood that when Agatha and Daniel died.”
There was a metallic thump of something hitting a pot. “I would tell them,” declared Myrtle. “Why don’t they understand that?”
Say what it is. Say it. Please.
“As would I, my dear sister. I would tell them in a minute if I could.”
A strange thought entered my mind. Was it possible that The Girls didn’t know what it was that The Klinefeld Group was after? I’d always thought, deep down, that they must know. How could they not? It was to do with Stella, their favorite cousin and a great friend of their mother. But maybe they didn’t. Maybe that secret died with Agatha and Daniel on that plane. Could they have been coming to St. Louis to tell the Bleds what they knew? They didn’t have it, so knowledge had to be what they were carrying. Dad always said that the best way to keep a secret was to shut the hell up. You’d have to keep the secret between the people who brought it back and their descendants and a line in the Bled family. If our side died with my great-grandparents, what happened to the Bled side?
There was another nose blowing and something being set down. “I think we must stop and settle ourselves.”
“Yes, we can’t change i
t. The orchids are a mistake. Tiny was right. The flowers are enough.”
“And yet they can’t do anything but be beautiful.”
“It’s all we have.”
“Yes.”
They don’t know. They really don’t know.
I tiptoed back to the door, pushed the door open hard so it squeaked, and called out, “Millicent? Myrtle? Are you in here?”
“Mercy, dear, we’re back by the potting table,” said Millicent.
I jogged back to find my godmothers disheveled. That alone made me skid to a halt on the stylized Art Deco tile floor. “Are you okay?”
My darling godmothers’ eyes widened in surprise. “We’re fine,” said Millicent, immediately coming to me and hugging me gently. Myrtle followed suit.
I breathed deep the scent of expensive perfume, baked goods, and good clean dirt. For a second, everything seemed like it would be alright. They loved me. They loved Mom. These little old ladies had plenty of secrets, but not the one that got my great-grandparents killed. I didn’t know how much weight I was carrying until that particular one was lifted away.
Millicent stepped back and asked, “Why are you worried about us? Dearest Carolina—”
She got choked up and couldn’t continue, so Myrtle took over. “How is your mother? Ace says that she came through the surgery well.”
“She did. I think she’ll have some issues. That’s pretty much unavoidable, but everything happened just the way it should with a stroke. Nothing was missed. I was worried about you because…you’re all…messy.”
The Girls looked over themselves seemingly surprised to find the prim Chanel suits that they’d probably worn to the cathedral that morning were smudged with dirt and had leaves and sticks stuck in the fine fabric. Their silver hair, usually done in ringlets and elaborate waves, was hanging loose with pins dangling from the tips of their locks.
They brushed their skirts and patted their hair, as surprised as me to find themselves a mess.
“Your mother,” said Millicent helplessly.
“We wanted to bring her favorite flowers,” said Myrtle.
I hugged them both. “She’s going to be fine. I’m sure there are lots of patients that would love your flowers, not just Mom.”
They nodded.
“But you should change and rest.” I could see a flash of stubbornness in their lined faces. “Mom will be sleeping for some time. They gave her a painkiller. She won’t even know you’re there. Come tomorrow after we get her out of the ICU.”
“The ICU,” whispered Myrtle in horror.
“It’s not that bad. Trust me,” I said with a smile. “She’s getting great care and Aunt Miriam is with her.”
“Miriam?” they said with silver eyebrows shooting up.
We had to have a discussion about Dad, but I got them upstairs, had Joy unpack, and talked them into dinner on trays in bed, which they considered the height of decadence. I reminded them that Mom was eating in bed and it became a solidarity thing.
Once I got them settled in Millicent’s bed with cups of Tension Tamer and The Crown on the TV I carried in from the sitting room, they seemed to relax. Joy promised to stay with them overnight to make sure they’d get up and start trimming hedges or something instead of coming to the hospital. Then I ran downstairs to try and sneak out the back.
No such luck. Tiny snagged me at the back door. “I got Mrs. Haas to handle the flowers,” he said. “Some florist is going to take them to the hospital.”
“Not the vases, I hope.”
“Not the vases.”
“Good. She owes us.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Haas.” I told him about the fuss at the gate and watched as my cousin’s face went into a downright scowl. That wasn’t Tiny at all. Despite all he’d been through with his military service, he managed to stay cheerful.
“They acted that way about your parents? These people are trash around here. I don’t care how much money they’ve got. Can’t buy class.”
“I think Mrs. Haas lost her mind. She thought Mom wasn’t hurt badly at all.”
“No excuse. I might give her a piece of my mind iffin’ I could spare it.”
“You can spare plenty,” I said. “I got to go. Mom’s probably asleep, but I’ve been gone a lot longer than I expected.’
“I’m ready,” Tiny said and the cheerful expression that usually decorated his face returned.
Please, no.
“For what?”
“Chuck called. I’m gonna watch you.”
Dammit, Chuck. No trust.
“I’m good. See ya.”
“The hell you are. I know all about that guy in Sturgis trying to kill Ace and following you.”
I went out the back door into the denuded rose garden. It was a pretty sad sight with all the fat bushes stubby and not a whiff of the heady scent that usually filled the air. “I’m fine. I’ve had stalkers before.”
“Not like this asshole. He attacked your mother and killed somebody feet away from her,” said Tiny as he chased me through the garden. He was pretty quick, considering that he was a huge guy at six six and over 300 pounds.
“I’m really fine,” I said, trying to wiggle out of his iron grasp. Not gonna happen.
“This got something to do with that chick you got with you?”
I froze and then got overly casual. “What chick? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorted. “I seen her lurking down the avenue behind you.”
Crap on a cracker.
“What makes you think she’s got something to do with me?”
“You acted like she wasn’t there and you got skills,” he said.
Not that many skills, apparently. I suck.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I tried to drag him down the walk toward the stable/garage. It was like trying to drag a chatty dump truck. Tiny kept yakking about Fats, trying to convince me of how he knew we were connected. I didn’t care. I just had to get away.
“You know you’re not going to move me, right?” asked Tiny.
“I can do it.” My feet were moving. My body wasn’t. “I believe.”
“Believe all you want. I ain’t moving. Unless…”
I stopped struggling. “Unless what?”
“You tell me who she is.”
I eyed my cousin and his brown eyes got all shifty. “What are you up to?”
“Nothin’.” He wouldn’t look at me.
“You want to meet her. For crying out loud, Tiny, I’ve got stuff to do,” I said.
“She’s behind the garage.”
“Unbelievable. Her name is Fats. Do you really want to date a woman named Fats?”
Tiny chuckled, a deep and reassuring sound. “She’s fat like I’m tiny.”
My hands went to my hips. Maybe my cousin’s inexplicable attraction to Fats could outweigh Dad’s influence. “Do you have my back?”
Tiny dropped my arm. “You know I do.”
“Over my father?”
“They aren’t different.”
“Well…”
Without a word, Tiny charged past me. He was so big he created a breeze. I chased him down the walk to the stable, grabbing his belt loop and trying to hold him back. I actually went airborne a couple of times and didn’t slow him one bit.
Tiny reached the keypad and punched in his code. In one swift movement, he whipped open the door and dragged me inside. We flew down the aisle between the old stalls filled with fresh hay. The smell was intoxicating, reminding me of a childhood when I studied there, hiding from my nosy mother and eating the pastries The Girls and I had spent hours making. Why had I never realized how unique my position was? It seemed everyone else had.
In thirty seconds, we were out the door. Tiny made sure he’d secured it before calling out, “I saw you.”
Fats stepped out from behind the corner of the garage and said, “Because I let you.”
Tiny scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
<
br /> She advanced on him like a lioness on prey. “I decide.”
“Why are you watching Mercy?” asked Tiny, letting her slink up to him without any reaction. I would’ve backed up or run. I’m tough that way. “That’s my job.”
“You chauffeur old ladies.”
My cousin twitched. “That ain’t permanent.”
“Looks permanent.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
Fats jerked a thumb toward me. “She didn’t tell you?”
“She said you’re called Fats, for no good reason.”
“For the same reason you’re called Tiny. It’s incongruous.” She smiled, revealing sharp, rather large canines and another toothpick, just hanging out in there.
“I been called Tiny since kindergarten.”
“Same here.” Fats looked him up and down in a blatantly sexual way.
Ew.
“Okay. You two get a room. I’m going to the hospital.”
Fats made a purring noise.
“Oh my god! Stop that. You’re grossing me out.”
“Prude.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”
“Not a chance. I follow orders, even if you don’t.”
My lip poked out. I don’t know why. Following orders wasn’t my jam.
“Yeah, she’s not good with the orders,” said Tiny.
“Hey! Stop bonding,” I said. “She works for Calpurnia Fibonacci.”
Oops.
I pushed on Fats, trying to turn her around. “Let’s go. Stroke patient waiting.”
“Calpurnia Fibonacci?” asked Tiny. “The mob boss?”
“Businesswoman,” corrected Fats.
“Tommy Watts won’t see it that way.”
“Not my problem.” Fats turned and walked down the alley. I noticed she had a lot more swing in her hips. Tiny followed her as he was meant to. Men.
“I take it we’re going now?” I said, jogging along to keep up with their long strides. It was a workout just to get back to my truck. They ignored me for the most part while trading zingers and innuendos while scanning the area and avoiding being seen, sharp-eyed and, frankly, scary as hell.
When we got to the truck, I was breathless and stupid. I thought I could keep Tiny out of the truck. We’re talking a 1958 Chevy, not exactly a crew cab. Fats unlocked the driver’s side. I hopped in, sliding over and trying to make myself look big like you’re supposed to when being charged by a bear.
