Tamar Myers

by As the World Churns (lit)

  “Tell me, Miss Yoder, what have you managed to learn from your guests?”

  “Well, the Pearlmutters danced the bedroom bossa nova six times last night; both Dorfman brothers tried to show up for breakfast wearing only wife-beater T-shirts and jam-jam bottoms; Gertie Fuselburger left her chompers unattended in the downstairs powder room; and as for that dear, sweet Candy Brown, I think she’s lying about being Polish. Neither she, nor her husband, had ever heard of pierogies. Now why would someone lie about being Polish, I ask you? Where there is one lie, there are sure to be many-that’s what Granny Yoder always used to say, although she seemed to have no trouble not telling me that my birth mother was really a gypsy girl from a traveling carnival. If you ask me, withholding information is just another way of lying. But when it comes to lies, the one that really takes the cake is the whopper the Dorfman brothers think we’re stupid enough to swallow. Ha, a cloned cow indeed!”

  “Excuse me, Miss Yoder, do you think the Dorfmans are serious about the cloned cow story?”

  “They at least want us to believe that Harry was able to turn a plain cow into a show-quality specimen via some secret process. What’s even worse is that they’re hoping to create a media sensation by announcing their hoax at my-I mean, our-Holstein competition.”

  “Hmm. That might not be all bad.”

  “Et tu, Brute?”

  “You see, Miss Yoder, the kind of person who’d assault an old man like Doc is the same kind who tends to love media attention. It wouldn’t surprise me if that wasn’t Doc’s handwriting on your barn stall, but the assailant’s. At any rate, wouldn’t Hernia benefit from the additional coverage? You know what they say: there is no such thing as bad press.”

  “I take it then that no one has ever publicly accused you of being Bigfoot and interbreeding with Melvin the Mantis?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind. Look, I have an idea that may flush this creep out into the open before tomorrow and the official start of the competition. If it works, I’m pulling the plug on the Dorfman entries.”

  The handsome young man leaned forward eagerly. “What’s your plan?”

  “What do cows say?”

  “Moo?”

  “Bingo.”

  Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of moola, even for moi. Well, not really. Over the years since I inherited the PennDutch Inn, I have learned to pinch a penny until it screams for mercy. But my point is that, for most folks, twenty big ones was not chump change. The police station has a copy machine, paid for by yours truly, so I had no compunctions about using it to print up flyers offering a reward for any information leading to the arrest of Doc’s assailant.

  I had just taped a flyer to a telephone pole in the historic part of town, when the driver of a passing vehicle slammed on the brakes and jumped out. As my eyes refocused, my heart sank. One of the Dorfman brothers was striding toward me, now completely sans shirt, while his shorts hung precariously low. His hairy belly swayed from side to side with each step. I stood rooted to the sidewalk, too mortified to move. It was like watching the approach of a wooly mammoth-although of course such a creature never existed, and even if it had, it would have perished at the hands of the first Americans, who paradoxically arrived on this continent at least four thousand years before the world was even created.

  “Miss Yoder, I need a word.”

  “Extraneously.”

  “Is that Aye-mish?”

  “Nay, ’tis not.”

  “Miss Yoder, I don’t speak Aye-mish. Just regular ol’ English.”

  “Alas and alack, we lack an interpreter. But speak loudly, and then maybe I’ll understand. What is it that you want, Mr. Dorfman?”

  “Harry.”

  “Indeed, you are. And since you brought up the subject, going shirtless is just not done in Hernia. Besides, aren’t you freezing to death?”

  “Ma’am, it’s seventy degrees. Back in North Dakota we don’t get this kind of weather in April.”

  “Harrumph.”

  “Is that Aye-mish too?”

  “Nicht, nein, nyet. Please, hairy Harry, cut to the chase. But just don’t run; the sight of your unsightly abdomen swaying at high speed may cause me to poke out my mind’s eye.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “The word you wanted with me. What seems to be the problem? It isn’t about that rust brown stain on the carpet, is it? Because it’s ketchup, not blood. The man who died in your room was strangled to death.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oops. I must have lapsed into Amish again. A lot of their words sound like English, but have different meanings.” Okay, so that was an out-and-out fib. But the truth might have upset him so much that he’d have a heart attack.

  He nodded and pulled a crumpled flyer from a pocket of his khaki shorts. “I seen this outside the feed store. Is this for real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hot diggity dog! I’m getting me a new water tank for my herd with this here reward money.”

  My heart began to pound. “You know something about Doc’s assailant?”

  “Yes sirree, I reckon I do. And what are the chances I’d find you just by driving around this pretty little city, looking up and down the streets like I did?”

  “Spit it out, man!”

  “Well, you remember dinner last night?”

  “Vaguely-of course I do!” To my credit, I did not vocalize some of the epithets swirling around in my mind, only a tongue’s reach away from twitching lips.

  “You remember when that, uh, exotic dancer-Candy’s her name-got up to use the ladies’ room?”

  “Just so you know, I do not suffer from dementia, Mr. Dorfman. I remember everything you’re about to ask me.”

  “Oh, I ain’t gonna ask you nothin’ else. Anyway, I was thinking to myself that Candy was taking an awful long time in the powder room, even if she was doing all them things ladies sometimes do. Then I happened to glance out the window, and even though it was dark outside, on account of you have that security light, I could see her come out of the barn. She looks around, and then runs back up to the house. That’s how come she was breathing so hard when she got back to the table. That weren’t no asthma attack like she said.”

  My jaw dropped so far that I could have swallowed a sparrow, had one perchance flown into my mouth. To my recollection, Candy had not been gone that long-just long enough to do her business, wash her hands for thirty seconds using soap and hot water, and then tidy up the basin. But folks didn’t tidy up after themselves anymore, did they? A lot of them didn’t even bother to wash their hands-or so I’ve been told.

  “What motive would she have? She didn’t even know Doc. He’s a sweet old man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. His only fault is that he, uh, loves women.”

  “You mean he’s as horny as a billy goat?”

  “If one must be crude.” A flock of geese walked across my grave. Maybe that was it; old Doc had made a pass at Candy, who interpreted his attention as sexual harassment. Rather than come to me with the problem, she’d taken the matter into her own hands. Perhaps she’d clobbered him with a pitchfork handle, or a piece of siding that pulled loose. Although nothing appeared to be missing, barns, like most folks’ garages, tend to accumulate stuff, making it hard to account for things.

  He chuckled, as if proud of himself for shocking me. Which he hadn’t, of course.

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” he said with a leer.

  “Why, I never!” Well, actually I have, but only within the confines of holy matrimony-although the first time wasn’t quite so holy, given that the billy goat in question was still hitched to that harlot up in Minnesota. I’m exempting washing machines, of course, not that it’s any of your business.

  “Believe it or not, Miss Yoder, I am not the least bit interested in your past, no matter how checkered it might be. I just want the twenty thousand dollars you promised in this here flyer.”

  “I’ll have you know that my past is not ch
eckered. Lightly speckled, perhaps, but that’s as much as I’ll concede. As for the twenty big ones, first we’ll have to see if your information leads to the arrest of Candy Brown for the assault on Doc Shafor.”

  “What’s there to see? You are the power in this town, ain’t you?”

  “Well, I am mayor, and I do pay the chief’s salary-get behind me, Satan!”

  Harry glanced around nervously. “Where?”

  “At the moment, he resides in you, dear. I will not be tempted to use my power-such as it is-to railroad that sweet little Polish girl, even if she dances for money.”

  “What sweet little Polish girl?”

  “The one with all the freckles and the strawberry blond curls.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Yoder, but boy howdy, have you been bamboozled. That girl ain’t Polish, and she don’t dance at no South Pole neither. She dances in them topless bars where she wraps herself around a metal pole in all manner of suggestiveness.”

  I let that sink in before opening my big trap. “You mean-you don’t mean that, do you?”

  He nodded gravely. “I’m afraid I do. I don’t know about youse guys, but in North Dakota, we consider that a worse sin than the real thing.”

  “Indeed!”

  “So you’ll arrest her?”

  “Tempus fugit,” I cried, and then, remembering the most recent reaction to this quite respectable Latin phrase, I fled like a roach when the light’s been turned on. Unfortunately, I was headed right into Harmon’s way.

  15

  Cheesecake Ice Cream Recipe

  Ingredients:

  6 oz (150 g) cream cheese

  3/4 cup granulated sugar

  1/2 pint (250 ml) sour cream

  1/2 pint (250 ml) double (heavy) cream

  1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

  3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

  Place the cream cheese into a mixing bowl, and beat until soft and smooth. Slowly add the sugar, and then beat in the sour cream followed by the double (heavy) cream. Add the vanilla extract and lemon juice, and mix until thick and smooth. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for two to three hours. Take the chilled mixture and beat until creamy, then transfer the complete mixture into an ice cream maker, and follow the manufacturer’s instructions.

  16

  I’d driven straight for the inn, and knowing the shortest route, I quite reasonably expected to get there first. So you can imagine my surprise when I stepped out of my car and was greeted by Harry.

  “How did you do that?” I cried.

  “Gosh, Miss Yoder, you heard that inside your car? Well, it was a good one. Didn’t last long, but great resonance. Heck, they earned me quite a reputation with the frat boys.”

  “TMI!”

  “No, MIT-Mid-North Dakota Institute of Techno-biology.”

  “Mr. Dorfman, the sound quality of bodily functions is not much admired in Pennsylvania, and, as I told you before, neither are bare bellies.”

  “You never said no such thing.”

  “But I did. Just a few minutes ago. And pray tell, how didst thou get here so fast? Thee hadst to have broken the speed limit. I know whereof I speak, having broken the speed limit myself. As a God-fearing woman, I am supposed to obey the law, but I was helping the chief solve a crime, therefore, at least in mine eyes, I had pseudo-dispensation. But verily, thou didst drive like Jehu, son of Nimshi, except thou didst not drive a chariot, and thus, perchance, drove a great deal faster.”

  “Huh? Was that English?”

  “King James-to a degree. Now tell me, Mr. Dorfman, how did you get here so fast?”

  “Well ma’am, once we caught the interstate in Grand Forks, it was pretty much smooth sailing all the way.”

  “No, I mean just now. Between the historic district and here.”

  “Uh-you must be talking about Harry, ma’am, ’cause I ain’t left your place since we arrived yesterday. I’m Harmon.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sure as shooting.”

  “My apologies, then. But please, cover yourself. Global warming notwithstanding, we are a conservative community, and do not bare our vulnerable parts outside the bondage-I mean bonds-of marriage.”

  “That’s a shame, Miss Yoder, because you have yourself a great body. Them clothes you’re wearing don’t hide that fact neither.”

  A compliment from any source, short of the Devil, is a gift to be appreciated. If only for a moment. To ignore the giver is to be arrogant, which is the third worst sin in Magdalena’s lexicon of the Ten Greatest Spiritual Boo-boos, right up there under sex and dancing.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Just don’t get any ideas, because I’m a happily married woman.”

  “You are? How come I ain’t seen a husband?”

  “Because he’s staying at his own house across the road, on account of there’s a maniacal mantis on the loose-oh, never mind. It’s a long story.”

  He shook his not so handsome head, his overgrown eyebrows flowing in the breeze he generated. “And some folks think we cornhuskers is backward.”

  “Embrace the truth,” I said and tried unsuccessfully to move around him.

  “Miss Yoder, I got something you hafta see.”

  “Seen one, seen them all-which is not saying much, believe me.”

  He pulled something out of his shorts pocket. Mercifully, in doing so, he hiked them up a bit.

  “See this here cigarette?”

  “Um-yes.”

  “I found this in the paddock where my cows are.”

  “That’s impossible. There’s no smoking allowed on my premises, and besides, if a cow ingested a cigarette, it could get very sick. It might even prove to be fatal.”

  “Exactly. And that’s my complaint.”

  “You mean you really did find it here?”

  “Miss Yoder, I don’t know how it plays in Pennsylvania, but folks in North Dakota don’t lie.”

  “Not even your politicians?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “More’s the pity.” I closed my eyes for a second as the gravity of the situation sunk in. “You think it was deliberate? This cigarette, I mean.”

  “Had to be. It was out near the middle of the paddock, and it’s fresh. Whoever it was, she wanted to stop us from competing.”

  “She?”

  “Look closely, ma’am. There’s lipstick on this end.”

  I whipped a tissue out of my purse, and lifted the stub from his hand. There was indeed a splotchy ring of scarlet around the filtered end. “The only woman here who wears scarlet lipstick is Gertie Fuselburger. And hers is always partly worn off-not that I’ve been keeping track, mind you. But if I was going to paint my face like Jezebel, I’d at least keep up with repairs.”

  “You gonna call the police, or do you want me to?”

  “I will. But just so you know, in a way, I am the police.”

  He rolled his eyes like a petulant teenager. “Somehow I don’t think so.”

  “But I am!” I wailed, and then realizing that my wailing tends to annoy people-besides being humanly impossible-I decided to set my sights on results, rather than tend my wounded pride. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

  “After I found this one, I searched the paddock real well. But just because I couldn’t find any more, doesn’t mean that my cows didn’t already eat them. No hard feelings, ma’am, if they come down sick, I’m gonna hafta sue.”

  “What?”

  “Cindy Sue is worth about two grand, but Cora Beth, on account of her historic scientific significance, I’d say is worth upwards of fifty grand. Maybe even as much as one hundred.”

  “Does this cigarette contain marijuana?”

  “Come again?”

  “Is this coffin nail illegal in all fifty states as a recreational substance?”

  “Ma’am, anyone ever accuse you of being Looney Tunes? ’Cause this here ain’t no nail; it’s a cigarette.”

  I would have bitten off the tip of my tongue, but that thip thailed
long ago. “I can see that, Mr. Dorfman. I’m asking if there’s marijuana in it. Because if you’ve been puffing your way into this fantasy, I’m issuing a citizen’s arrest.”

  His brows bristled. It was like watching a pair of porcupines square off.

  “You take back that insinuation, or I’m suing you for slander as well.”

  Thank goodness for high school gym class. Although I hated it at the time-it was first period, and I had to attend all my classes with wet, stringy hair and smelling like eau de locker room-Mrs. Proschel made sure her girls were at least adequate touch-football players. (We suspected Mrs. Proschel was once an NFL linebacker, but that’s another story.) At any rate, when push comes to shove, I can shove with the best of them.