by Tamar Myers
"Nope. I'm afraid I can't help you there."
"Why not?"
"She didn't have a license with numbers. She had one of those personalized tags."
"So?"
Heather turned the color of a Yankee at Myrtle Beach. "I don't do words, only numbers."
"What?"
Tears welled up and appeared enormous behind the Cokebottle glasses. "It's been that way ever since I can remember.
"Why even on my first day of first grade, September sixth, nineteen—"
"You don't even have an impression what her license plate read?" I didn't mean to be rude, but my Mama's life was at stake.
"She needs to have her oil changed on October fifteenth, unless she puts another three thousand miles on it first," she said helpfully.
I thanked Heather and boogied on out of there. I forgot to ask her if she had indeed heard about the lace. Live and learn, Mama likes to say. Sometimes, however, you don't get to do both.
"It was my day off," Greg said nonchalantly. "I was just heading back from a little boating when I got your call. Came as soon as I could."
I looked him up and down. Several times. The man should boat more often. He was wearing a white polo shirt and white shorts—not Bermudas, but sexy short shorts, like European men wear. Either his tan had gotten darker, or his blue eyes brighter, and he smelled like sun, wind, and just the right amount of testosterone.
"It's that gray house there. The one with the beige car in front of it. That's my mother's car. She's been in there for at least an hour. What are you going to do?"
He smiled, confirming the tan theory. Teeth that white could damage retinae if viewed too closely.
"I'm going to walk up there and ring the doorbell."
"What? He could be armed and dangerous?"
"Would you prefer that I call the SWAT team?"
"Yes."
I was serious. I read the papers. I know that even old men, with skin like starved elephants, are capable of heinous crimes.
Apparently Greg did not share my fear. It was all he could do to keep from smiling.
"Look, how about I give it a shot first? Here's my phone. If I'm not back in five minutes call—"
"I'm not worried about you," I wailed. "It's my Mama."
"Your Mama will be fine."
Greg thrust the cellular phone into my hands and started up the walk at a brisk clip. I moved to stop him, I really did, but coward that I am, I gave up after a few steps. When it comes to saving my own Mama's life, I was unable to make a possible fool of myself in front of a man I had the hots for. There, I said it. I am pure scum.
I'm not going to trot out any clichés about it being the longest ten minutes of my life. Let's just say that I swear I saw the moss growing on the shady side of Tony D'Angelo's trees. Needless to say I was immensely relieved when the door opened and Mama came out.
"Where's Greg?" I shouted.
Mama came after me like that time I drew a hopscotch pattern on the living-room carpet with her lipstick. Of course I was six then and she could still outrun me.
"Abigail Louise Wiggins Timberlake!"
"Are you all right, Mama?"
"I was, young lady, until just now. I've never been so embarrassed in my entire life."
"Yes you have, Mama. Remember when your garter belt broke at my high school graduation? You looked like that woman on Mama's Family."
"Abigail!"
"Well, I was worried, Mama. What happened in there?"
"What happened is that I had a nice long talk with Tony. He wasn't two-timing me, after all."
"They all say that, Mama."
"Not everyone is a timber snake, dear. Tony and Eulonia were never—well, you know."
"Intimate?"
"Yes, that's it. They were only friends and neighbors."
"Oh yeah? Then how was he able to seduce her into deeding over her house and shop? Friends don't leave their estate to friends when there are living relatives."
"Because it wasn't hers, that's how."
"What?"
Mama calmly stroked her pearls. "Your Aunt Eulonia was an intelligent woman, but she was terrible at business."
"She was? Her shop was always full of customers."
"That's because she practically gave everything away. She liked people, Abigail, but she had no idea how to run a shop. At any rate, over the years Eulonia got in way over her head financially. She would have gone bankrupt if it weren't for Tony."
"You mean he loaned her money?"
"That's putting it mildly. In the end he just bought her out. Paid her more than she could have gotten on the open market."
"Then what was all that business about a parakeet foundation?"
"That was genuine. It does exist. Although really, it was a misguided attempt on his part to spare her dignity. I don't think Tony, or anyone else he knows, is likely to go tramping around some swamp looking for extinct birds. Tony is an exceptionally generous man."
I shook my head. "I'm still not convinced. If they weren't playing the hootchy-cootchy game, then why did she leave him her bed?"
Mama glared at me. "It wasn't just her bed. Tony gets all her furniture, because it was all his to begin with. Your crazy aunt sold off—or gave away—all the family heirlooms. Of course if either of us had paid more attention to her, we might have noticed that. Maybe we could have put a stop to it."
"Mama, I had a life of my own to tend to."
"And I didn't?"
"Buford left me, remember?"
"And your father left me, dear."
"That's not the same at all. Daddy died!"
Immediately I realized just how stupid and insensitive that must have sounded to her.
"I'm sorry, Mama."
She patted her pearls, as benevolent and forgiving as the Beaver's mom. "So, Abigail, is there something else you'd like to say? About Tony, I mean."
What could I say? I'd jumped to all the logical conclusions, they just weren't the right ones.
"Does this mean you and Tony are back together?"
Mama laughed. "More or less."
"Which is it, more or less?"
"Let's say less. We're still going to see each other, but we're going to take it a little slower. Some things are hard to change, if you know what I mean."
I did. As long as Mama wore her pearls and full-circle skirts, I wasn't going to complain. Which is not the same as saying I was thrilled.
"What is Tony going to do with Aunt Euey's house?"
"Well, that's the really generous thing, if you ask me. Tony is offering to rent it to you. Cheap."
"How cheap is cheap?"
"Become a dues-paying member of the Society for the Reestablishment and Preservation of the Carolina Parakeet, and it's yours. For as long as you like."
"What's the catch? What are the dues?"
"Three hundred dollars a month, including utilities."
I vowed to go swamp-trekking on my next vacation.
"So, does this mean you're going to the mountains with me this weekend to track down Penny?"
I didn't like Mama's smile.
"Yes, or no?"
"I said that Tony and I were going to start taking things slower; I didn't say we were going to quit cold turkey."
"Mama, how vulgar!"
"Get a life, dear," she said sweetly, and went back inside.
"Well, I'm going back to Selwyn to talk to Anita!" I shouted at the door. "I'll be there till around five, if you change your mind."
The door opened again, but it was Greg, not Mama. He was, however, wearing Mama's grin.
"I just got off the phone with your friend Peggy."
"How did she track you here?" I wasn't surprised, merely curious. If it involved food or a man, Peggy could find that needle at the bottom of the haystack.
"She didn't call me, I called her. I left one of my good pens there during my interview."
"She still have it?"
"She had a lot more than that. She was full o
f news."
"She tell you about the Major?"
"Division called me on the lake and told me that."
"I didn't do it."
He laughed. "What happened to the Major has nothing to do with your aunt's case. Apparently the accused—who is from Rock Hill, incidentally—went a little heat-crazed and attacked the Major during an argument."
"M.D. Three flipped?"
"You know him?"
"I went to school with him. He was the class nerd then. How's the Major?"
"The Major's going to be all right, but he's threatening to sue. Everybody! You know any lawyers?"
"Very funny. What did Peggy have to say?"
The blue practically danced out of his head. "That woman likes to gossip, you know."
"Do tell."
"According to Peggy you and I are an item. She says you told her that yourself. She wanted to know if it was true?"
My face stung. If there had been a hole in Tony's lawn deeper than a divot, I would have attempted to crawl into it.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Anyway, that Peggy just blathers on and on about whatever comes to mind. There's not a word of truth—"
"There could be."
"Excuse me?"
"I can't ask you out now because of the case. But after I wrap this up, we could do something."
"You mean like a date?"
"Call me old-fashioned, but I like to date a few times first. So, how about it?"
I nodded mutely and dashed for my car. I had to keep my jaws clamped firmly shut to prevent my heart from leaping out of my mouth.
It was nothing short of miraculous that I didn't hit anybody on my way back to Selwyn Avenue. I am also grateful that I wasn't stopped for a moving violation. Had I been, I would have undoubtedly blurted out something about diplomatic immunity on the grounds that I was dating a police officer and was planning to have his baby. Well, the latter isn't quite true—and no longer very likely—but there's just no accounting for my tongue during times of extreme bliss.
"You look fabulous," I said to Anita. The truth was that she looked peaked, which for Anita isn't saying much. Excessive religiosity not only causes constipation, but recent studies have shown that it leads to cancer in lab rats.
"God bless you," Anita said. She patted at her bun in a remarkable display of vanity and then lit up a cigarette. "I bought me a new French gewgaw for my hair. I think it's called a 'bid-day.' "
"I don't think so, dear," I said kindly. "Say, do you happen to know a woman named Penny, who dresses up like a mummy?"
"Penny who? Abigail, are you making fun of Penny Jamison who goes to my church?"
I doubted it. Pumpkin Penny didn't appear to be the type.
"I don't know her last name, dear, but this morning she was wearing an orange silk jumpsuit and black leather boots."
Anita shuddered. "The Bible teaches modesty, and orange is not a modest color. Why are you looking for her?"
"Can you keep a secret?"
"You know I can."
"You promise?"
"I don't lie, Abigail."
I told her about the woman's visits to my shop and about the dead fish. She was a good listener, and the bun bobbed up and down or from side to side as was appropriate.
"You really think she might have killed your aunt?"
"If not that, she knows who did. That woman definitely has a secret, and I aim to find out what it is."
"How do you plan to do that?"
"Peggy knows the woman. Only slightly, of course. She says the woman told her she was spending the weekend up in the mountains, at a place called Mossy Lodge." I glanced at my watch. It was four minutes after five. "My Mama was going to go with me, but she had to cancel. You wouldn't want to blow this burg for a trip to the mountains, would you?"
"Well, I might at that," Anita said, nearly knocking me over with surprise.
"You would? What about your shop?"
"Oh, Brandt can mind it, if it's just for one day. There are a few minor repairs I need him to do anyway."
"Perfect. Then you'll go?"
Anita smiled coyly and smoothed a few stray hairs toward her bun. "I wasn't planning on the extra expense of course."
"Of course. I'll pay."
"And I expect my own room."
"You do?"
"It's a sin for two unmarried people to share a room, you know."
"We could stop at one of those charming little wedding chapels in the mountains and tie the knot first. I promise to be gentle."
"What are you talking about, Abigail?"
"I'll be happy to pay for your room, dear. It's no problem."
The hell it wasn't. Despite Tony's generous offer, which I fully planned to accept, I was still going to have to pinch pennies for a while. Three hundred dollars a month might not sound like a lot to you, but it was three hundred more than I was paying then. If, however, our little trip to the mountains was successful, and I was able to pinch Penny, my fortune might improve. I had a strong hunch the woman not only killed my aunt but stole my inheritance.
"In that case I'll go," Anita said. "Just let me stop by the house and pick up a few things."
"Make it quick, dear. You won't need much, since we're no longer eloping."
Anita gave me the fish-eye. One doesn't even dare joke about those things in front of her.
"I'll be back in half an hour. Meet me in front of my shop."
"But I won't allow smoking in my car!" I shouted after her.
While Anita Morgan dashed home to water her violets and pick up her flannel nightgown, I dropped in on the Rob-Bobs. The Finer Things always closes at six on Friday, a full hour after the rest of us dilettantes have bolted our doors. It shouldn't surprise us then that it thrives even in the lean times.
"So how are my babies doing?" I asked cheerfully.
"I watered them this morning," Bob boomed. "Was that the right thing?"
"That was fine. Hey, how about I pick them up on Sunday? I've found a place to live."
"You could pick them up tonight," Rob said. "Bob's making something special for supper. Why don't you join us?"
"It's an iguana salad," Bob said.
"Bob's kidding. Seriously, Abigail, why don't you join us? We owe you."
Bob cast Rob a scathing look. I pretended not to notice.
"Well, if it's all the same to you, anytime Sunday suits me better."
Bob's sigh of relief was flattering. "I'll water them again tomorrow, I promise."
"Please no, you'll drown the dears. Hey, you guys hear the latest on the Major? He's going to be all right."
"Yeah, Peggy called," Rob said. "It's hard to believe a thing like that happening. Someone beating up on him, I mean. I know the Major can be hard to take, but his bark is far worse than his bite."
"That's mighty generous of you, considering the man is practically a Nazi."
"Nah. He's into paraphernalia, not politics. Deep down I think he likes me."
"Rob thinks everyone likes him." Bob sounded slightly jealous.
"Rob, remember when we were talking about old lace?"
"I remember."
"Well, I heard the terms of my aunt's will this afternoon. There wasn't any mention of the lace in it. In fact, she didn't leave me anything. She had nothing left to leave."
"Sorry," Bob mumbled.
I smiled at him. He was trying his best to fit in. And who could blame him if he was a mite insecure about my friendship with Rob. After all, I am an attractive woman, if I have to say so myself. At least Greg Washburn thinks so.
"Well, easy come, easy go, I guess. Anyway, I didn't deserve anything. I wasn't the world's best niece. Not by a long shot."
"You were loyal," Rob said. "That counts for something."
"Yeah, well, I should have done more. Anyway, I just stopped by to tell you guys that I'm off to the mountains for the weekend. I need to take a few days off and sort some things out. Hopefully it's cooler up there."
"Speak
ing of the heat," Bob said, "you didn't warn me that it was going to be so hot down here."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said with a straight face. "In October we get the Bermuda Triangle trade winds. While the North is getting their first frost, we're sizzling in the triple digits. Last year on Halloween we hit an all-time record high of one hundred and twenty-five degrees."
"She's kidding," Rob said.
"Touché."
"Speaking of Halloween," I said casually, "I found out the Great Pumpkin's name."
I swear Rob blanched. "I beg you pardon?"
"It's Penny."
"Oh? Penny what?"
"I don't know, but I'm working on it."
"Maybe it's Penny Loafer," Bob said.
I am not adverse to glaring at new friends. "I'll find Penny, wherever she is," I said calmly. "And when I'm done with her she'll fit through a door slot, believe me."
"I believe you," Bob said.
"Have you told the police?" Rob asked.
"Told them what?"
"That her name is Penny."
"Of course."
The phone rang then and Rob scrambled to get it. I am not an eavesdropper by nature, but the way Rob cupped the receiver made me suspicious, and it should have sent Bob into a bolting panic. Fortunately I have excellent hearing and am quite practiced in the art of casually drifting in the direction of whispered speech. Bob's attempts to entertain me with New York humor slowed me down, but they did not stop me.
"No. Now is not a good time," Rob was saying, when I got within earshot.
There was a very long pause during which he blinked three times.
"No, I told you, not now!"
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.
"I understand that, and that's why I love you, but I'm not going to be a part of that."
He opened his eyes and caught me staring at him.
"I've got to go now."
Pause.
"No, don't call back. Not tonight."
I turned away. "A word to the wise, Bob," I said kindly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I gave him a sad, knowing smile and slipped from the shop before Rob could disengage himself from the phone. I might be a curious person, but I don't like witnessing lovers' quarrels close up.
Just outside their door I bumped into Buford Timberlake. I mean that literally. He was the last person I would have expected to bump into on that stretch of Selwyn Avenue at five-thirty on a Friday afternoon. Had I expected him, I would have bumped harder.
