The Immaculate Deception

by Sherry Silver

  Donna

  I clicked send, took a shower, dried off and went to bed naked. My throbbing head and the sun pouring in through the skylights interfered with slumber time. I stumbled to the bathroom and swallowed one more aspirin and two tiny pink and white Benadryl capsules. Washed them down with water though, the last thing I needed was more caffeine to keep me awake. I wasn’t taking Benadryl because of an allergic reaction and I wasn’t tormented with sinus congestion. But I knew there was a side effect to Benadryl that caused drowsiness and it usually knocked me out. Momma had taught me about it. There were many nights when she couldn’t turn her mind off and she relied on Benadryl. Now I was doing it. I crawled back under the covers. Of course, the phone rang. I checked the caller ID Payne, Perry. I growled and answered. “Hello?”

  “Oh-Donna, Saint C’s just called. They’re booting Chloe out if someone doesn’t come and sign a financial contract. The cashier’s office is open until four. Can you make it in time?”

  I snarled my face into a ferocious sneer. Too bad we didn’t have video phones. “No way!”

  “But you’ve gotta go down and pay. Just give them a credit card or something. We can’t have her loose on the streets.”

  “Oh so you admit that she didn’t escape and kill Daddy then. Momma is not a deranged murderess and she does not belong locked up at the cuckoo’s nest! And why do you always think that I’m a billionaire? You’re the big important judge. I just do peon cog-in-the-wheel work, because I have no education, because there was no money for my college, because you needed it. And sweet pretty Tammy.”

  My brother fired right back at me. “If someone dies or is injured because they let a mental patient loose, then the cops will go after you for not making arrangements. You will be the responsible party, Oh-Donna.”

  I hyperventilated. Something ugly and nasty from deep inside of me spat out. “Don’t you threaten me.” I threw the phone. I heard a crack as it smacked my bedroom window. “No!”

  Shaking all over, I stumbled across the midnight blue carpet and dragged the broken off-white plastic mini blinds back to inspect the glass. Good, I didn’t break the window.

  I went to the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom and popped one more aspirin, just because. I couldn’t stop thinking about poor Momma. Oh what was it like in the mental hospital? Was the room cold and barren? Was she locked up in a ward with a dozen screaming women? Was she frightened? Did she have her pain medication for her back? Oh Momma, I’ve got to get you out of there. Well, now if what Perry says is true, if nobody pays your bill, then they will release you. That will work. That is one way to spring you from the hokey- pokey. But then what? Do they just shove you out the front door and lock it behind you? What would you do on the streets of Anacostia? An elderly white lady would not blend in with the neighborhood. Wait, don’t you still have some friends there from the old days? Could you walk to their house? Do you have your purse? Could you pay for a cab ride home? Wait, I have your purse, with the keys, wallet and all. Tears of guilt flowed down my cheeks. I was drowsy, the Benadryl was finally kicking in. I’ll come and get you, Momma. But tomorrow. I can’t drive like this.

  Back in my bedroom, I turned on some soothing-sounds music, waves. I jabbed my finger on the cooler button on the thermostat and then dropped my body onto the queen-sized four-poster bed. I stared up at the crocheted lace canopy and listened to the waves lapping the shore. I heard the rush and whirr as the air conditioner kicked on. I tried to conjure up a beach at midnight…

  I felt the sand under my toes. A strong summer wind blew off the ocean. The foamy tide lapped my calves. Bells rang, a soothing little echo. A saxophone melody materialized. Sounded like, wait, I knew this one. Something from the forties. “Sentimental Journey”. Who made it famous? Right. Doris Day and the Les Brown band.

  I smelled marshmallows. No, I really did. I turned around. Down the shoreline, I detected a flicker. An irresistible flickering. Like a magnet, it propelled me. I blinked my eyes at a campfire. And there he was.

  Chapter Four

  I smiled, “Hey you, step into my dream again.”

  He grinned back. “Hi, Cinderella. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I sighed and looked him over. He was wearing light-colored trousers, rolled halfway up his calves. Bare feet in the white powdery sand. I concentrated on those feet. They were perfect. Strong tendons, well-pedicured. Not crusty and gross like old What’s-his-name’s feet. Joel-the-Jerk who I inadvertently jilted at the altar so he enjoyed a ménage à trois in the honeymoon hideaway that I had paid the non-refundable deposit on. There had gone a whole two-week pay period of overtime money wasted.

  My breathing slowed. I heard my deep exhalations. I sized up dream boy’s ankles and his exposed calves. Well-developed and just the right amount of fur…um, hair. I methodically raised my gaze along his trousers, stopping at the fly. Hmm…he must be right-handed, because he kept it on the left. And my, look how happy it seemed to see me. My body tingled as I imagined making good use of his merry instrument.

  My gaze traveled upward. His white shirt was untucked and unbuttoned. Firelight flickered on the silky hair complementing his chest. Just the right amount. It looked soft and tempting. I followed the furry path back down to his trousers, where it disappeared. I was really getting hot. I stepped back from the bonfire.

  He ambled over to me, carrying a tree branch with a toasted marshmallow smoldering on the end. I drooled. I was hungry, both for him and the sweet. I reached for the marshmallow. He tugged it off the stick before I could get it. Actually, he placed his fingers on the sticky treat and slowly moved it up and down the limb before freeing the goody. I had to swallow. I opened my mouth in anticipation.

  He pressed it to my lips and encircled them twice. I followed it with my tongue. He placed it in my mouth. Our eyes locked while I tasted the sugary hot texture. It was delicious and over with too soon.

  My dream man took my left hand and tenderly rubbed his fingers all over mine. I trembled, not used to being treated so gently. He made me feel as though I was the most desirable woman on earth. Or the universe if he was a Martian. “Are you a Martian?”

  “What?”

  “The last dream. You told me you were going to take me to Mars. Is that where you come from?”

  He chuckled. “No, sweetheart. I am most certainly not a Martian. I come from a much higher place than that.”

  What was above Mars? I conjured up black space, stars and the red planet. What would be above the universe? Heaven? “Are you an angel?” My gaze dropped to his trousers. “A naughty angel?”

  He blushed as he brushed a curl from my forehead and kissed it. “I told you, love. I’m your soul mate across time and space but I have lived on earth as a man before.”

  I remembered the dream where Katherine-the-maid served us cheese and deviled eggs. “You used to work as a Secret Service agent guarding President Franklin Roosevelt, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed. You’re very well-preserved for your advanced years.”

  “I didn’t fully advance.”

  As I was wondering what he meant by that, he intertwined our digits and we meandered down the beach, waves crashing at our calves. The hem of my dress was getting soaked. Dress? I glanced down. I was wearing a white gauze dress and the ocean breeze blew it tight across the front of me. I ran the fingers of my right hand through my hair. I felt so beautiful.

  So he was my soul mate. My very own. A troublesome thought struck me. “But how can you be my soul mate? You don’t even exist in my world. You’re not even real. That’s just not fair.”

  “We belong together, love, although this is your journey. You have to trust me…believe in us.” His smile reminded me of a mysterious sphinx. “Doesn’t this feel real?” His lips gently brushed mine. Butterfly kisses. Soft, gentle but real…definitely real.

  He started walking up onto the beach. I could see lighted buildings in the not-so-far distanc
e. No one was around, just my dream man and I. He removed his shirt and in one quick moment spread it on the sand. He lowered me onto it. Our eyes met. His beautiful dark brown eyes twinkled playfully. He lowered his face to mine. I felt his lips on mine. Firm and dominating this time, like no other man had ever kissed me before. With each stroke of his tongue, my doubts washed away. My body relaxed onto the sand.

  His tongue rimmed my lips in concentric circles. I felt his hardness pressing against me. He was right. How could I not trust him when he was kissing me like this? I heard the rhythm of the turning tide. The scent of the warm breeze intoxicated me. He penetrated my mouth with his tongue again. Hungry, probing, thick hotness. He slid his hand down to my breasts. This dream man was no stranger to women.

  I opened my eyes and beheld the stars shimmering. His hand continued down my body to the hem of the dress. He teasingly drew the fabric up and down, in between my thighs. The friction he caused sent the blood rushing to my feminine zone. I closed my eyes and sighed involuntarily.

  He stopped. I opened my eyes and searched his. He grasped my hand and placed it on his crotch. And then he kissed me. I gently traced the contours of his family jewels.

  Our eyes locked together. He unbuttoned his trousers. I reclined back in sublime anticipation.

  A bright light blinded me.

  “Knock it off. Miami Beach is no place for fornication.”

  Frowning, I squinted at the old wrinkled police officer.

  Dream lover said, “Officer, I assure you, I was not molesting this woman. She lost her footing and twisted her ankle. I carried her up here, eased her down onto my sheet and was assessing the injury—”

  The cop cut him off. “You say you laid her down on your sheet? Didn’t you mean to say shirt? Mister, even if what you say is true, you still have lascivious thoughts.”

  I hope so. I giggled.

  Sheriff Old-timer said, “Let’s see some identification.”

  Oops-a-daisy, I didn’t bring my driver’s license with me to dreamland. My companion, however, was prepared. He flashed a badge. The cop snatched it up and examined it in the beam of his flashlight.

  “Sorry, Agent. I didn’t mean to interrupt your rescue. May I be of any assistance? Is the President nearby?” The policeman peered around excitedly.

  I peered around too. Darkness. Sand. Ocean. Hotels in the distance. No President as far as I could see. Moron. I sat up, tucking my knees underneath me, pulling my dress down. “Ow!” My ankle really did hurt.

  The cop squatted. His night stick dug into the sand. “Miss, let me help you. I’ll get you to the squad car and then over to the clinic.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Officer,” Dream boy said, hoisting me over his shoulder, fireman style.

  Off we went. The cop was left in the sand my fireman kicked up as he hiked toward the boardwalk. A few more long strides placed us at a street. He gently set me down curbside. I searched his face. He looked determined but somehow I wasn’t convinced that I was the object of his quest.

  He said, “I’ll leave you here, love. This one you have to do by yourself. You’re about to meet someone from your mother’s past. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Wait. What do you mean? My mother’s past? Who am I gonna meet? Is this why I’m here?” But he was already walking away from me, evaporating into the shadows. There I stood, under a streetlight. No one else was out and about. Odd but there were loads of camouflage military vehicles parallel parked. I noticed the street sign, Eleventh Street. I took a few steps, with my head cocked to the side, to see what the cross street was. Lincoln Road. The sand that was so soft on the beach was now gritty on the sidewalk. Itchy actually.

  Palm trees stood sentry at the Art Deco hotels lining the road. The fronds rustled in the wind. I heard a spewing sound and took a few steps westward to investigate. A fountain. I crossed the rest of the street and hurried over to it. Sitting on the wide concrete rim, I swung my legs over the side, careful to keep my dress out of the pool. I arched my back and faced into the spray as I swung my feet, dredging them through the cool water. Hey, my ankle didn’t hurt anymore. Magic. I rose up and inched my way under the spout of water.

  It felt cold but so very inebriating. I swept my hands through my hair, got it drenched. I slicked it back. I turned and thrust my chest into the spray. The pulsating flow on my nipples felt wicked. They grew hard. I longed for his hands to caress my breasts. Damn that cop creeping up on us. Thoroughly wet, I gazed up into the starry night sky, picked out Venus. I closed my eyes and made a wish. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…bring my special mate back to me and let us live together in eternal love. I opened my eyes. I was shivering. I’d overdone the water. I heard footsteps behind me and then felt a hard slam on my back. It knocked me down. I grabbed the concrete fountain edge and didn’t scrape my face. My abraded fingers burned. I turned my head. I spotted a midnight blue eye. Just one, the other had a patch over it. A pirate patch. My attacker was devilishly handsome. Unsettling. I realized I should scream, so I did. Not that anyone else was out to hear it. The pirate groped me under the water.

  “No! No! Leave me alone! Who are you?”

  He flipped me over, facing him. He pinned me down, his knees on either side of my hips, underwater. With one hand, he suspended both of my arms over my head, back on the wide, smooth concrete fountain rim. Then he kissed me. I bit his lip. He raised his hand as if to smack me. In slow motion, I watched it coming down. But it stopped.

  He spoke as he searched my face. “Where is Chloe? Tell her to give me back my money or else…” He motioned to push me underwater again.

  “Chloe who?” I whimpered.

  “Chloe Lambert.”

  “She’s my mother…and she’s in trouble.”

  A look of sickness paled over the pirate’s face. “No! She can’t be your mother. You are way too old, lady. Besides, you don’t look anything like her.”

  “Well, she is my mother and I have to find her. She’s in trouble.”

  “I know she’s in trouble. Tell her to give me back my dough and maybe the trouble will go bye-bye.”

  “What are you talking about? If she gives you money, she’ll be released from the mental hospital?”

  “Mental hospital? That’s a swell place for the stupid dame. Where did she stash my money?”

  “What money? Who are you?”

  I heard footsteps galloping and then felt the weight of the pirate collapse on me. Just for a moment and then that old cop yanked him out of the fountain.

  The cop said, “It’s the end of the line for you now, Billyboy.” The policeman turned to me and said, “I am so sorry, Miss. I’ll get you an ambulance right away.”

  “No! No, no. I don’t wanna go to the hospital. Been there, done that, don’t like it.”

  “But we need to gather evidence.”

  “What? Oh no, no, he didn’t do that.”

  The pirate struggled and made a run for it. The cop chased after him and took a flying leap but missed. As he scrambled up, two teenaged soldiers materialized. They threw the pirate to the sidewalk. One sat on him. The other smashed his black polished leather boot into the pirate’s head, near his ear, on the side with his good eye.

  The cop marched over to them. “Thanks, corporals. Hold him a minute until I get to the call box to request backup.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in monotone unison.

  The cop trotted around the corner. I trekked over to the men. The pirate’s eye was flashing up at me. I’d never seen an eye that color blue, nor that sparkly. It had a magical allure but with an imminent sense of evil.

  The seated soldier asked, “Ma’am, are you injured?”

  “No…no I’m all right.” I glared at the pirate. “Who are you and why did you attack me? Why are you asking about my mother? What is she to you?”

  The copper returned with two more of Miami’s geriatric finest. He said, “Billyboy here has a nasty little problem of seeing pretty ladies and for
cing his company upon them. Don’t ya, Blandings?”

  “Billy…Bill Blandings? Vera Blandings’ first husband? What do you mean he’s got a problem of forcing his company on ladies?” I turned from the copper to my attacker. “What have you done to my momma?”

  The soldiers handcuffed the pirate. They yanked him to his feet. He was really handsome. Rogues usually were. He turned his head toward me and gave me the evil eye.

  “Why are you looking for my mother?”

  “She has my money.”

  “Oh yeah, and that’s another little problem this scoundrel has. He prints his own dough. Boys, get him outa here,” the old cop snarled.

  The quartet marched pirate boy away.

  The copper took out his little notebook and licked the tip of his stubby pencil. “All right, Miss, you’re sure he didn’t injure you?”

  “Yes. I need to leave now. You’ve been awfully diligent but I need to find information about my mother. There’s so much I don’t understand. I have so many questions…” Why did my mate bring me here? If in fact he had brought me here and I wasn’t dreaming all of this. Why did I have to meet Bill Blandings? And what money was he talking about? Did Momma have money problems? Wait, Daddy had told me before he died that Momma had attacked him because he wouldn’t give her the money. Could there be a connection? How much did I know about Momma’s past? “I know she used to live in Miami Beach. Perhaps someone here knows something. She had a room above a bakery. Paddy Cakes

  Bakery. I remember her telling me how she gained weight just inhaling the buttery cinnamon wafting through the walls. I’d love a good doughnut, are they still in business?”

  “They’ll be plenty of time for noshing doughnuts tomorrow. I need some information for my report. Your name?”

  “Orpha Donna Payne.”

  “Address?”

  “One–three–one–two–seven Spyglass Street, Reston, Virginia.”

  “Local address where you’re staying.”

  “Don’t have one.”