Boris gave the final swipe of antiseptic. “Finished and if I say so, beautifully done.” He gave her a mirror and held another one up behind her.”
“That’s exactly right,” she murmured.
“I’ll put on the bandage. You’re paid in full and the changing room’s open.”
She dressed carefully and retrieved her purse from Boris at the front desk.
He handed her a receipt. “I’m sure you’ll be well rewarded for your special literary project. Old books are highly regarded in today’s marketplace.”
“That’s the truth. And now, it’s my new business.”
“Good luck, wherever you end up. Hey guys, hustle on out of here. I’ve got to go. I’m late.”
Lily glanced at the men entranced in another promo. Intent on nude bodies, they didn’t notice a clothed woman at all. But she was used to being unnoticed.
Aggie struggled into the Cut & Curl, toting a heavy bag. “Lily’s not back yet, but I brought some of Griffo’s books into town for us to check out for the book club.”
“Let me help.” Piper took the bag. “We can look through them in the waiting area.”
Aggie spread the books out on the magazine table. “Here’s one called The Pirate and the Princess.” Sound inviting?”
“What about One Thousand and Two Nights?” Piper opened it at random and read, “and after we had waited a while till the wind was favorable, we spread our sails. What’s that mean?”
“You think ‘spreading our sails’ stands for something else?”
“Who knows?” Piper opened to a dog-eared page in a different book. “What about this one by Charles Darwin? Among the captive girls taken in the same engagement, there were two very pretty Spanish ones, who had been carried away by the Indians.” She flipped through the book. “But most of the rest talks about lizards and birds’ eggs and snakes.”
“I guess we should wait for Lily. We don’t know enough to do this.” Aggie stacked the books and glanced out the window. “Oh, here comes Freddie.”
Piper dashed off toward the back door. “I can’t talk to him. You handle it.”
“What do I say?”
“Make something up.” She disappeared.
The front door opened and Fred came in. “Hey, Aggie. How goes it?” His eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Piper?”
“She left me here, working on book club stuff. We’re almost ready to start. You ever read Voyage of the Beagle?”
Fred stood by the front door. “Naw, but we have Jaxon, our mutt.” His face looked grim. “Do you and Piper talk much about stuff other than books?”
“Not too often.”
“Here’s the thing. We don’t either. I don’t suppose you know why she’s acting so different.”
“I don’t mix in.”
“Well, tell her I stopped by. I’m getting awful tired of waiting for that talk.” He clomped out.
A few minutes later, Piper opened the storage room door and peeked around the corner.
Behind the foxglove plants of Used Stuff, the voice activated recording units quit humming after Lily’s conversation with Maxine. But no one listened to Ms. McFae inquire about “unusual kinds of books” or Maxine’s words about “doing business.” Not yet.
Under the blackberry bushes outside the Emporium, the tape also started and stopped as programmed. The owner Ratchov spoke to the same woman about “a special literary project” followed by “highly regarded old books.” Their conversation stayed imbedded on the spool of tape, to be heard another day.
When Lily walked past the mildewed books on the Used Stuff throwaway shelves, her shoe brushed against the torn newsprint, but fate gave not the slightest quiver of magical coincidence. The Book of Cures lay wrapped in disguise. The inked pictures of lovage and yarrow, the labels marked “poison” under monkshood, foxglove and belladonna, lay unnoticed on the dusty floor.
Sometime later, a hand checked to make sure the package at Used Stuff was still in place.
CHAPTER 16
The woman skittered through the mall in low wedge heels, wearing tinted aviator glasses and a blonde wig peeking out from under a big, felt hat. Nestled in the side compartment of her purse, she possessed someone else’s credit card. She’d traveled to a newly opened mall away from home, where no one would know her or care. With no payback consequences, she could indulge her weakness for free money until the account maxed out.
She gravitated to an upscale boutique, with a window filled with the luxury of silk and the texture of fine linen. Inside the store, her fingers caressed the cloth, drawing the sensual experience out as long as possible, her form of shopper’s foreplay. She tried on selections of the most expensive ensembles and chose two outfits of imported fabrics.
The emerald green suit skimmed her slim figure. “I’ll wear it and take this too.” She put on a hat with a pheasant feather, setting it at a jaunty angle. “Each shopping trip is a new start in life, right?”
The clerk folded the other outfit into tissue paper. “Could be.”
She dug in her purse and presented the credit card. “Here you are.”
“Thank you, Ms. McFae.”
With one transaction, she’d baptized her new name. As she walked along, window shopping, her large bags dragged from the weight of newly credited purchases. The wrappings whispered to her with each step. Packets of extra buttons, twists of colored thread, instructions to dry clean, awaited her unpacking pleasure.
The woman in green sped off from the mall toward Groverly. In a deep valley surrounded by rocky inclines, she spotted the Arts and Crafts Fair. Sunlight bounced off the sign, Griffo’s Rare Gems & Jewels. His display shimmered outside the painted gypsy wagon. She slowed and parked to decide whether to go forward. Pulling out her cell phone, she tried to place a call, but the signal did not go through.
She drove into the courtyard, stopped in front of the wagon, and got out of the car. A prickling ran down her arms. Approaching the display, she adjusted her sunglasses and pulled down her feathered hat. With a casual air, she examined the jewels hanging by threads in the open window. Her voice was light and high. “What beautiful sapphires. That’s my birthstone.”
Griffo Verkie stood with arms folded over his paisley vest. “My sapphires reflect the blue heavens, but they also come in rainbow colors. Other shades are very unusual.” He reached inside his vest for a soft, gray cloth. “Exceptional gems. Yellow, pink, orange, purple. How much do you wish to spend?”
“I buy what pleases me.” She was glad she wore the new, expensive suit. The drooping pheasant feather off the back of her hat suggested a person of taste and means. “Do you accept credit cards?” She watched him appraise her worth and noticed his jewelry did not have price tags.
He nodded and unfurled the cloth. His voice rose and fell seductively. “Of course, these are spirit birthstones, a custom dating back to the 1700’s. And the most magnificent of all are the sapphires, the rarest of elements heated in the depths of the ground, crystallized by great pressure.”
Teasing, he let the sunrays reflect off a purple ring. When the woman reached to examine it, he moved back, so it could not be touched. “Did you know the Persians believed that sapphire was a chip from the pedestal that balanced the earth? This one comes from the oldest mine in Ceylon. For that reason, it is not cheap.”
He pointed to his glimmering array of jewelry. “But there are prices for everyone, ranging from twenty dollars to eight thousand. You look somewhat familiar. Have you purchased from me before?”
“No, I’m only passing through this area.” She pointed to the deep purple sapphire. “That’s the one that interests me.”
He placed the ring on her finger, nudging it gently in place. “What excellent taste you have, my most expensive jewel. The cut reveals its elegance. Move your hand and watch the light dance across the surface. Imagine this stone, born deep in the earth, rising to the surface in a violent avalanche. Arriving in this country. Coming to me. Waiting for you.�
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“I’ll take it.” She opened her purse and brought out a credit card. “Here you are.”
Griffo took the card and turned away.
She watched him insert it in the square white plastic cube.
“Because of the amount, I need to make a call,” he said.
She edged back a few steps, car keys in hand, ready to bolt, if necessary. She shifted her weight as he poked in a number.
He tried the number again, then slammed his cell phone shut. “Can’t get through. I’ll call again in a few minutes.”
She looked at her watch. “But I can’t stay. I’m late as it is. And I don’t believe I’ll be this way again.”
Griffo shrugged. “Wait. Wait. Let me think.” He looked down at the machine. “Everything is ready to go. And I hear the sapphire calling to you. Okay, sign here.”
The ring glittered on her hand. With a swift gesture, the woman wrote “Lily McFae.”
“May the stone of your birth ease the yearnings of your heart,” Griffo called out as she left.
Her mind raced. She’d done it, the transfiguration of restrictive cocoon to butterfly. Metamorphose. Transformation. Transmutation. Wham.
On her way down Main Street, Lily noticed the gas gauge on her bookmobile read empty. She braked for the service station and saw the handsome attendant wave from the garage window.
“Everyone’s friendly in this town,” she murmured and waved back. She read the sign that said to pay inside after pumping. Monitoring the rolling dollar amount on the pump, she stopped at $87, grabbed her purse and went in. “Not your most fuel efficient vehicle.” She opened her billfold. “Darn, I seem to have used up most of my cash.”
“I accept most cards, ma’am,” he said.
The empty slot in her billfold gaped. Her credit card was missing from its usual pocket. “Oh drat, my card’s not here either.” Her fingers scrambled through the wallet again. “I know I had it.”
Her knees locked tight when she couldn’t find her checkbook. She remembered writing checks at the desk in her cottage, paying all the bills before she left home. In her hurry to escape from her life there, she must have forgotten it.
“What seems to be the problem?” the attendant said.
She squeezed her hands together. “My check book’s at home and my credit card’s gone. Lost. Maybe stolen.”
“Keep calm. Let’s figure this out. I’m Fred.”
“I know I had it, but it’s disappeared.” Lily rifled through the side pockets of her purse again. She dumped some change and a few dollars on the counter. “This is all I have. I’ve been paying cash for most things along the way.”
“You’d better report it.”
“Where do I do that?”
“Here, use my phone.”
Lily unfolded the typed list of necessary phone numbers for utilities, credit cards, etc. in her billfold. She listened carefully to the voice on the other end of the line and answered the identity questions. “The last time I used the card? To gas up in Groverly, before I left town.”
“Would that be Larry’s Service Station?”
“Correct.”
“Did you use the card at Burkley’s Imported Elegance?”
“Definitely not. Did someone find my card and use it? What do I do now?”
“If someone else used it, the matter goes to the fraud division. Now that you’ve reported it missing, your card will be cancelled out.”
“How soon does that happen?”
“Immediately.”
“How could someone do that to me?”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not alone. Millions and millions of dollars in credit card fraud are processed every day.”
“But how do they track the person who took my card?”
“Maybe the person will use it again and that will help the authorities. But there’s no profile of an identity thief. Could be a man or woman. Young or old. Rich. Poor. All kinds of backgrounds.”
“Creates an unusual person-to-person relationship, doesn’t it?” Lily put her purse back in order.
“You’ll be reissued a card with a new number.”
“But I’m traveling.”
“Give us a temporary address, soon as you can. Our mailing to you will contain a compilation of stores and purchases. After you receive it, mark any you have not made and return it immediately.”
She let the phone fall softly on the cradle and turned to Fred. “Now, here’s the big question. What do I do about paying for the gas?” She eyed the girly calendar decorating the wall. “I have an idea. We could engage in barter.”
Fred frowned. “I’d rather not be left holding the bag on this one. Particularly since you’re not a regular customer.” He rubbed his ear. “What exactly do you mean, barter?”
“Follow me for a way out of this predicament.” She beckoned for him to follow her and waved him inside the bookmobile. “Look at my wide choice of reading material. You take the ones you want, until my debt is paid in full.”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t call myself a reader.”
“You might be surprised.”
Fred pulled out a book on geology. “Looks too, uh, different. Got any about cars?”
“How about this?” Lily removed The Body Beautiful: Automobiles. “A collector’s item featuring famous photographers.” She uncovered a two-page spread that featured the curve of a Rolls Royce fender.
“Hmm.” Fred noted the well-lit shape of the fender and quickly leafed through the book. “You know, barter might work. How do I know how much this book is worth?”
“Price in pencil, inside cover.”
Fred turned another page and sighed. “Been watching too much TV alone anyway.”
“There’s a matching book you might wish to consider.” Lily reached for The Body Beautiful: Painter’s Models. “It’s the companion volume with works by famous artists. A Venus or two. Some famous nudes by de Goya. Titian. Manet.”
Fred looked at a photo that featured other well-lit curves. “Tell you what, I’ll take these two books in exchange for the bill. That should do it. And don’t worry, ma’am. Stolen IDs happen all the time.”
“I keep getting this picture in my mind. Someone pretending to be me.”
“Don’t think of it like that. Here I am, looking right at you.”
“The right to be Lily McFae was about the only thing I had left.”
Fred hopped down the step of the bookmobile. “Hey, I know who you are now, the book club lady. It was my wife Piper who invited you to town.”
She blushed. “She’s a very nice person. Enjoy the books.” She sat down in the driver’s seat and twisted the key in the ignition.
Mortified, she drove out of town, whizzing along the gravel road on her way to the goat farm. Why hadn’t she remembered that Fred was Piper’s husband? And she’d asked him to barter for gas. What would Piper think?
Whoop. Whoop. Whoop. A siren slit a wide swath through the country air.
“Unbelievable to be stopped like this on a country lane.” She glanced at the speedometer. It verified her lead foot had been bearing down. She eased off the pedal and pulled over to the side, ready to confront the kind of patrolman who searched out speedsters on rarely used roadways.
She lowered the window. “I seem to have lost sight of the speed limit.”
“Ripping right along there, lady. Trying for a spot at the time trials?” The sheriff tossed her a grim glance.
Lily smiled. “I blame it on your smooth roads and splendid scenery. The miles zip by before you know it.”
The sheriff’s face was impassive. “This vehicle used to be a rock star rig or something?”
“Not quite. I carry books, not musical instruments.”
He pulled out his pad. “I need your driver’s license and registration. Are you in the habit of riding through life like a tornado, Miss? Mrs.?”
“My name is Lily McFae.”
“Oh yeah, now I recognize you, the library lady w
ho came to town about a book club. I stood in the back of Used Stuff the day you talked. Keeping the peace.”
“And you did an excellent job. No riots over books that day.” She flipped open her billfold. “Oh dear, not my day. My driver’s license is missing, but I have the registration.” She reached into the glove compartment for her travel packet of documents.
“Anything else with your current address and phone?”
“My insurance card has that information.” She removed it from the travel packet and looked through her billfold again. “More good news. My library card.” She handed the items over.
He walked around the vehicle. “Maybe I’m being overly protective of this town, but without a license and since you’re not from here, follow me back for the ticket. Turn around and we’ll drive to the office. I’ll check your vehicle registration on the computer. If things pan out, you pay the fine. Away you go.”
Lily hunched her shoulders at the mention of an escort and a fine. “Is there any way I can move forward to another place for this procedure? It’s embarrassing. I know people in your town.”
“Sorry, lady, my office is in Nolan. I’ll write out the ticket quick as I can.”
The sheriff kept the speedometer at a steady thirty-five miles an hour. Every so often, he gave the siren a whirl.
She was grateful for an empty Main Street. Braking gently, she stopped behind the patrol car.
He came up to the window. “Stay put. Back soon.” He strode into his office and came back in a few minutes. “Ran your registration. It matched your name and address on the insurance card.
The sheriff whipped out his official pad and tore off the ticket. “Here’s the damage. On the back road, it’s twenty dollars. You sure you’re only toting books. No contraband?”
“Only lots of reading material. I’m happy to show you.”
“You carry any detective stories?”
“Blood and guts or cozies? My assortment runs from Agatha Christie to Raymond Chandler, Mickey Spillane to Sherlock Holmes. They’re toward the back. Want a tour?” Lily walked through the bookmobile and opened the rear door.
The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies Page 13
