by Deany Ray
Celeste stood beside her friend and gave me a look that meant she was waiting for an answer, not just about the car but about the hunky fry cook, too, and his secret life.
I sighed. “I guess we need to talk. But can we go ahead and leave now? I want out of here.”
Once we were on our way, I told them everything. I knew it was time. I used the rearview mirror to catch glances of Celeste as she sat in the backseat and took my story in. Nothing about it seemed to rattle her. But that was just Celeste, I guess. She was the calm in a sea of chaos when things got busy at the diner. She always had that look: like she had lived through lots of things already and now she was way too tired to be surprised by anything.
In contrast, Marge squeaked and squealed all through the streets of northeast Springston. “He didn’t.... No! Well, that situation right there is a burned biscuit with no butter.”
I turned to Celeste, confused. She rolled her eyes. “That’s diner-talk for really bad. Mind if I have a smoke?”
“Go ahead.” Marge and I answered almost in unison.
We were passing more deserted shopping centers. Where had the businesses gone? Probably toward the new mall they’d built three years ago.
“So this Elkins dude. You think he knows what’s going on with this big-deal cocaine case?” Celeste seemed to be thinking hard.
“I really think he does.”
She looked thoughtful, then she smiled. “I have an idea.”
Celeste? An idea about major felons and illegal drugs?
Marge turned and gave her a thumbs up. I really wished she’d watch the road. “Okay!” she said. “I’m in!”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Oh, never mind.” Celeste waved a dismissive hand.
Marge sped up as she took a sudden turn.
I was too tired to try to figure out what in the world they might be talking about. And also I felt jealous. How nice to have a friend who could guess what you were thinking when an idea popped into your head.
Marge hit a curb and jostled me, then stepped on the brakes too hard when she came to a stop sign. How long had she been driving? And did she know where she was going? She seemed to be going the wrong way.
“Could we just head back into town now?” I asked in a quiet voice. “You know – the part of town that’s safe? Or presumably safe.” I guess they could take me to a tire store if they had the time. Oh, sheesh. How much did tires cost? Would the captain still come through with that extra money? Or would I find myself without a job at all?
“Don’t you worry, sugar,” Marge said. “We have an errand first, and I know just where I’m going.”
Celeste snorted. “She might know where she wants to go. But finding it’s another story. That woman right there could get lost in a one-room tractor trailer.” I had no doubt that she was right. We seemed to have been passing the same street signs over and over again.
Marge frowned. “Quiet in the back seat. I think it’s this turn here.”
I looked at Celeste and shrugged. Then I tried to calm myself by breathing very deeply and picturing in my mind a great big plate of cookies. Chocolate chip, gingerbread…
I already felt a little calmer. I had really needed someone to tell my story to. I was anxious, very anxious, to see what someone else thought that I should do. And Celeste, with her “been there, done that” calmness, might know just what to do with the kind of craziness my life had become.
“You talk now,” I told them. “What happened when I left? What did Alex say?”
“Not much.” In her excitement about her mysterious “errand,” Marge almost ran a red light, then slammed on the brakes. “He just said that we should keep our mouths shut and not bother his important self by asking anything.”
That finally got a rise out of the ever-calm Celeste. “Men! Don’t they always tell you that? They want all their women to just shut up and move along.” She blew a ring of smoke out the open window. “Don’t you sometimes feel like kicking all men to the curb?” She smiled dreamily. “Except that some of them look so fine.”
“So what should I do next?” I asked. “Do I stay or do I go?”
“I say that you stay. Your dad’s so glad to see you, hon. And we’re gonna solve this crime,” Marge said.
We?
Marge was looking at street signs so intently that she ran a red light. Then she took a dizzying turn into a gas station where just a few cars were parked.
Celeste immediately jumped out. “I’ll be back,” she said.
With a sinking feeling, I realized that we were almost back at the food plant.
“What’s going on?” I asked Marge. “And, hurry, lock the doors.”
“Never mind, hon. Not to worry. Celeste just has a bit of business.” And, despite my pleas, she wouldn’t tell me more.
Ten minutes later, Celeste slid into the back seat, and Marge drove us away.
“He’s got a couple more hours at work,” Celeste reported to Marge. “So we’ll have to come back then.”
“Come back? No way. Come back and do what?” I asked. I just wanted to be home.
Celeste pulled another cigarette out of her carton. “I want to have a chitchat with this Elkins dude.”
Okay. That was crazy. Why in the world would Celeste mix herself up in this? But you only had to know her for five minutes to learn that you didn’t argue with Celeste. I just hoped that they’d be careful. I really liked these girls.
“Well, we’ve got some time to kill,” Marge said. “Are you ladies hungry?”
“I am absolutely starving,” Celeste said.
“How could you be hungry?” I asked. “How hard can it be to find something to put into your stomach? You just came from a diner.”
“Oh, the food at Jack’s is scrumptious.” Marge gestured with both hands, which I wished she wouldn’t do. She had been weaving between two lanes even with both hands on the wheel. “But when you work at a diner all week long, sometimes you just want something that’s a little different.” She looked back at Celeste and grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Sushi!” they cried in unison. Which, someone please come save us, made Marge drive even faster.
***
Excitement (them) and terror (me) had whetted our appetites, and the sushi place was good. I filled up on spicy tuna and some dragon rolls. I knew I should look for the cheapest item. But I didn’t go out often, and I had earned a treat.
“I always order these,” I said. “The tuna is my favorite.”
“How do you know that it’s your favorite? If that’s what you always order?” Celeste gave me that look that she used on diners who asked stupid questions like if we had any ketchup.
“Okay, girl. Try something new.” Marge dropped a spider roll onto my plate.
“What’s this?” I stared down at it.
“It’s got crab and vegetables.”
I tried it. “Oh, my gosh.”
“Stick with us,” Marge said. “We know all kinds of things. How to order sushi…”
Celeste finished the sentence for her. “And how to deal with creeps like Alex. And even bigger creeps like your friend Mr. Elkins who doesn’t want to talk.” She reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Me and Marge, we got your back. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“And I appreciate it.” Gee, that kind of made me soft.
I could grant them expertise on ordering in restaurants. But when you think bodyguards, you don’t picture two women from a diner, one who sounds like Minnie Mouse when she gets excited, and one whose towering mass of hair is so red it almost glows.
Still, Charlie and Marge and Celeste seemed like a way better team than Charlie by herself.
Celeste took a sushi roll from Marge’s plate. “Elkins doesn’t frighten me. And neither do those notes. I’ve dealt with two ex-husbands. Nothing scares me after that. So I say bring it on. Cause this girl is on the case.”
As we ate
, we brainstormed ideas on who my stalker might be. Who was so intent on running me out of town?
“Who knows you’re on the case?” Celeste asked.
“The captain in Boston,” I said. “And Graywell. Or he did.”
“Alex knows,” Marge squeaked.
“Yeah, him.” But could he be the one? It wasn’t the first time that I’d wondered. He could be an arrogant asshole. But that was a far cry, wasn’t it, from trying to scare me to death? Just so I wouldn’t solve the case before he could. And, let’s just be honest. With my lack of training, how much competition could I really be?
But still…I’d rather someone try to scare me than want to shoot me dead.
“He’s most likely not guilty of anything much – other than being way too slow on getting out those orders.” Celeste took a sip of tea. “And guilty of thinking a little too highly of his stupid self. The boy looks good and knows it.” She sat back and looked at me. “But I’ve got my eye on that one. Sometimes the fancy, pretty boys are the ones up to no good.”
“Who else?” Marge asked. “Let’s run down the suspects.”
“Some people from the police here. But I’m not sure how many,” I said. Patrick Snow probably had forgotten all about me as soon as I walked out of his office. I doubt I was important enough to even come up in a briefing. But maybe Alex had told some others that were looking into Graywell’s murder.
Had someone overheard me talking to Graywell? Or the chief? “I’ve tried to be as quiet as I could when I talked to Graywell or to Alex. And I always tried to check, to see if someone was around. But when I get mad, I sometimes get louder. Maybe someone heard a conversation. And put two and two together.” The very wrong someone.
Marge waved her hand up in the air. “I heard you talking, hon.”
I nodded. “I need to work a little bit on my undercover skills.” Those are some important skills. They might be the very thing that keeps a girl alive.
Marge picked up the bill and shooed my hand away when I reached to get my purse. “Sushi rolls on me this time. It’s included in my rescue package.” She picked up her own large, overstuffed bag which featured a pattern of garish flowers and a pink jeweled flower clasp. She reached inside, then frowned. “Where did I put my keys?”
Celeste frowned at her. “What on earth do you keep in there? Do you always travel prepared to be stuck on a desert island?”
Marge piled up items on the table as she dug down for her keys. I saw a jeweled compact, a lipstick, half a bag of Tootsie Rolls (yum!) and a tattered paperback with a long-haired shirtless knight featured on the cover. I could just make out the title: The Sweet Fragrance of Love.
A short time later, we parked next to my car which, thank goodness, was still there. No smashed windows, no dented doors. Then we headed toward the food plant while Marge entertained us with a string of knock-knock sushi jokes. Each one was met with an eye roll from Celeste who was loudly smacking a stick of Juicy Fruit gum which she called her dessert.
As we got closer to the loading dock, Celeste told us to shush. “Let’s try to blend in, ladies. And not draw attention to ourselves.” As if long blue fingernails and a tower of bright red hair, still shiny from too much hairspray, don’t scream out Look at Me.
“Let’s wait in the alley,” Marge whispered.
Celeste nodded.
I wondered. “Where’s an alley?” How did they know what was what in this part of town? Clearly, I was not the MVP on this team of sleuths.
Sure enough, we found a darkened, narrow alley just around the corner from the loading dock. It smelled like stale cardboard and trash. Soon the men began drifting out, their shift over for the day. Good job, girls, I thought. We were hidden safely out of sight. These friends of mine seemed to know what they were doing. Which I thought was really weird.
Elkins was one of the last to leave, trudging slowly behind the others and wearing a scowl on his face. Silently, I pointed him out, and Celeste sprang into action, walking toward him with long, slow strides. Marge and I inched over so that we could peek around to see what was going on. I was freaking out, but Marge was all business as she studied the scene, arms crossed in front of her ample chest, a small smile on her face.
Celeste said something to Elkins and moved her hands back and forth with emphatic gestures. He looked at her suspiciously but didn’t try to walk away. Then she nodded toward the alley and they headed straight to us. Oh, shoot. My instinct was to duck back out of sight although I knew it was no use.
His face reddened when he saw us, then he glared at me. “You again? Dim-witted chick!” I bit my nails and backed away. Cookies. I needed cookies. And I was a crazy person. Because who thinks of cookies at a time like this?
Then Celeste made her move. A bright blue nail (French-tipped!) was aimed at the center of his chest. Celeste was in his face, and she was joined by Marge who’d gone from a giggly, meek child-woman into ninja mode.
“Where’s Mickey?” Marge screamed, her hands on her hip. I startled. Was that deep voice coming out of Marge?
“You’d better tell us now,” Celeste ordered.
“Wh…, wh…,” I ventured in a whisper. But I couldn’t finish. Better leave this part to the experts.
His expression changed quickly from shock to fear to anger. “You stay the hell away from me. I’m not getting pushed around by some freaking broads.” He yelled at us, wide-eyed.
I tried to calm myself with sweet thoughts. Oreos, oatmeal raisin, vanilla cream sandwich, peanut butter…
Then he turned to leave.
The next part seemed to come straight out of a James Bond flick that had gone all topsy-turvy. Where the heroes arrive in a clunker instead of an Aston Martin and serve scrambled eggs with toast when they’re not fighting crime.
Celeste grabbed Elkins and pinned him to a wall, a fierce look on her face. Then Marge reached into her flowered purse and pulled out a…pistol? She pointed the weapon at his face. “I’m asking you again. Where is Mickey? You better answer me or else you’ll be seeing this freaking broad unload some bullets in your head.”
Was I really seeing this? Well, well, well. I guessed a visit to this “Mickey” would be next on our agenda.
Chapter Nine
Marge stared at Elkins with a fierce look on her face. And I stared at Marge, amazed. Was nothing what it appeared to be? Sweet-as-sugar Marge had turned into a bear. Celeste, it seemed, would just as soon run down a pack of felons than go home and do her nails. And Springston? Well, the hometown that I thought I knew was anything but dull.
Elkins was so freaked out that circles of sweat darkened his shirt just beneath his arms. His face turned white in terror. This was getting fun.
I didn’t recognize our prisoner’s voice when he could finally talk. The sound that came out of Elkins was high pitched and so quiet we had to strain to hear. “Mickey, he works at the graveyard – in a little hut. I think you’ll find him there.”
A graveyard? In a hut? What was that all about?
“Well, that graveyard is a big place.” Celeste watched with her arms crossed. “Where would you suggest that we begin our search for this little hut?
“Over by the n-n-north gate. By the big tall monument? Next to the Harbin plot? Where my cousin Jane is buried?” His voice rose in a pitch at the end of every sentence until everything he said sounded like a question.
“I used to play gin rummy with Jane Harbin.” Celeste scowled, then shook her head at Elkins. “Wouldn’t she be proud of you?”
“Yes, ma’am! No, ma’am!” He looked as if he didn’t know which answer this woman would prefer, and that if he yelled out the wrong one, her crazy friend with a gun might decide to pull the trigger.
“What time is he there?” Marge demanded, giving him an angry glare.
“Till midafternoon? Most every day? Please don’t kill me, lady? I don’t want to die?”
Marge looked like she was deciding whether he would or wouldn’t. “What’s he doing at th
e graveyard? Tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t know! I swear! I don’t!” Elkins cried. “He sells me drugs sometimes. I go out to the graveyard when I need a high. And sometimes I sell the stuff to some other guys. He always has a good supply of anything I want? But that’s all I know? I swear?” He was shaking like a dancer whose moves were really bad.
With her gun still aimed squarely at his face, Marge cut her eyes at me. “You said some ugly things to my girl right here. Hey, Charlie! Anything you want to say to our Mr. Elkins?”
I wasn’t sure that I could speak. I was still filled with shock. I thought of the names he’d called me. The memory made me want to cry.
“Stupid man!” I yelled out. Which sounded kind of lame, but felt really good.
“Girl, you have to work on your badass lingo,” Celeste said.
Then Marge lowered the gun, and I could see Elkins start to breathe at last.
“Get your ugly mug away from us,” Marge screamed. “Just scram.” She waved him away as if he were nothing but an annoying fly.
At first, he looked too scared to move. Then he almost fell to the ground in his effort to get away before the crazy lady changed her mind.
“Whoa.” I turned to Marge once he had stumbled out of sight. “I don’t believe I’ve met you. Hello! My name is Charlie. And, by the way, what did you do with Marge?”
Marge giggled and put her gun back into her flowered purse. And just like that, my friend was back, the one who never said a cross word and always saw the world as a happy, perfect place. She grabbed my hand, her eyes shining with excitement. “Isn’t this the best day?”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “It’s not my definition of a party. But I guess we had a better day than Elkins did.”
I turned to Marge. “Since when do you carry a gun? And do you have a permit for that thing?” I thought about it for a second. “No! Don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know.” It had started to mean a lot to be part of that oddball threesome. And if Marge didn’t have a license to walk around with a gun in her jumble of lipsticks and chocolates and peachy little hand creams? Well, it was better that her friend who worked for the police didn’t know a thing.
