Something's Knot Kosher

by Mary Marks

  Jazz reached his hand toward Birdie. “Can I take a look?”

  She passed the red diary to the backseat.

  “Yes, this is definitely Rusty’s handwriting.” He flipped through the pages. “You’re right. This list doesn’t give you much to go by. But here on the first page are two words in English. Crazy Plot. What do you make of that?”

  Birdie twisted the end of her long white braid. “I think he left a hint of what the diary is all about—a list of evidence of some sort.”

  Was this what Denver Watson wanted back? Did the diary refer to something Denver had done or was planning to do? Or did the list document all the times Li’l Ape Man had texted, stalked, and harassed Jazz? What about Francisco Conejo? How could he be connected to this mysterious record?

  Jazz handed the diary back to Birdie and sniffed. “Do you think this is what got him killed?”

  Birdie nodded. “Yes. That’s why it’s so crucial to crack his code. At any rate, I need to make a stop soon.”

  Lucy contacted Earl on the two-way radio, and he led us to a sprawling truck stop on the outskirts of Sacramento, with a restaurant, mini mart, showers, and a parking lot the size of two football fields.

  As soon as Lucy parked the car, she checked her cell phone.

  “Any news?” I asked.

  “Junior stayed up all night calling all their friends, but nobody’s seen her.” I looked at Lucy’s face reflected in the rearview mirror. She raised her hand and briefly swiped away a tear. “I’m so afraid she’s absconded with those boys. What if she never intended to go to Hawaii? What if she just said that to throw us off the trail? They could be anywhere.” Tears now spilled down her cheeks. “Ray Junior is so close to his boys. His heart is breaking, not to mention mine and Ray’s.”

  “Listen, Lucy, how old is the oldest boy? Nine? Ten? He knows how to use the phone. He’ll call his dad.”

  Birdie patted Lucy’s arm. “Martha’s right, dear. When he realizes what’s going on, he’ll get in touch.”

  “I hope so.” She helped Birdie walk to the restroom.

  Jazz and I also headed for the restrooms, but he stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm. “Oh my God. Red car at two o’clock.” A tall man wearing a T-shirt and baseball cap got out of a bright red sports car at the far end of the parking lot and headed for the mini mart.

  “Jazz.” I put my hand on his arm. “Is that the red Porsche you were telling me about? Is that Li’l Ape Man?”

  He turned to me, face ashen. “I can’t be sure. He’s too far away. What’ll I do?”

  Great. Now we not only had to worry about an assassin following Birdie, we had to worry about a crazed stalker following Jazz. “Well, we could sneak over there and find out.”

  “And then what? You’ve got to think this through, Martha. He’s dangerous.”

  “Don’t forget, I’ve got a Browning.” I patted my purse.

  “How could I forget? You almost shot me.”

  By the time we came back out of the restrooms, the red car at the far end of the parking lot had vanished. Jazz walked the dogs and Earl stood by the hearse smoking a cigarette.

  When he saw Birdie, Earl limped toward her. “How was your room last night, pretty lady?” He leaned toward her. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “It was quite pleasant, thank you.” Birdie still seemed clueless that Earl was hitting on her. “And you? Did you get some rest?”

  He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his shoe. “It was okay. But a man gets lonely. Sure would be nice to share a bed with someone again.”

  Lucy edged over to where I stood and whispered, “Should we rescue her?”

  “He’s probably harmless. I think she can handle herself. And anyway, there are more serious things to worry about right now. Jazz thinks he might have seen Li’l Ape Man following us in a red sports car.”

  Lucy covered her mouth at the news. “Good Lord! That’s all we need.”

  “Let’s hope it turns out to be nothing. But just the same, keep your eyes peeled while you’re driving. I’ll also be on the lookout.”

  I stopped Jazz before he got back in the car. “I just told Lucy about Li’l Ape Man so she can watch to see if he’s tailing us. I think it’s time you tell Birdie about him too.”

  “I’m so upset.” His voice quivered and he fanned his hand in front of his face. “Do you think we should call the FBI agent?”

  “Not yet. Not until we know for sure that was him.”

  Jazz stood for a few seconds gazing at the large semis and their drivers. Then his expression lightened. “You know, I’m feeling inspired right now. Instead of Urban Pirate, maybe I could do Johnny in Trucker Chic with lots of leather, plaids, and denim. I could embellish with grommets and chains. What do you think?”

  “Don’t make any hasty decision.”

  CHAPTER 18

  We caravanned back to Interstate 5, and our solemn procession moved at a stately fifty-five miles per hour in the far right-hand lane. Once we hit the open road, the other cars passed us at considerable speed. Several red cars flew by, none of them a Porsche.

  Jazz cleared his throat. “Birdie, I have something to tell you. I hope you don’t think any less of me because of it.”

  She looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “What is it, dear?”

  Jazz told her about Li’l Ape Man. “It’s only fair you know, since he might be following us. I’m so sorry if I’ve put everyone in jeopardy.”

  “Jazz dear, it’s not your fault you have a stalker. Let’s just hope you’re wrong about spotting him earlier.”

  Jazz brought his fingertips to his lips and threw Birdie a little kiss. “Thank you.” He picked up my Double Wedding Ring quilt again and began stitching. I turned awkwardly in my seat so I could watch out the back window for a red Porsche. I barely noticed the farms, orchards, and ranches of the north Sacramento Valley. We reached Red Bluff around one and cruised by an old brick building built in the neo classic style with fluted white columns and a carved stone pediment. Beyond that lay a row of stores with false fronts straight out of the early twentieth century.

  The walkie-talkie hissed to life with Earl’s voice. “Just to your right is Peggy’s Picnic Palace. It’s famous around these parts. If it’s okay with you folks, I’ll park around the corner and meet you there. Over.”

  Lucy pressed a button on the two-way radio. “Will do.”

  We stopped in front of a wooden storefront painted white. A sign in blue letters announced PEGGY’S PICNIC PALACE, GOOD OL’ HOME COOKING. Light blue and white checked curtains hung in the window.

  “It’s charming,” said Birdie. “I hope they’ll let us go inside with the dogs.” We pushed the glass door open and trooped inside.

  “Nope. No dogs allowed,” said Peggy, a heavy middle-aged woman in a hairnet. Her gold polyester uniform strained over her large breasts.

  “I can see why you’d be concerned.” Jazz looked around and flashed a dazzling smile. “Your restaurant is perfect.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “And it smells divine in here.”

  The woman’s frown disappeared under the handsome man’s compliments.

  He leaned in a little and bent his head closer to hers. “It’s just that this is no ordinary German shepherd. He’s a decorated police canine and extremely well behaved. What if we sat right by the door and put him under the table? If at any time you change your mind, I promise I’ll take him outside. No arguments.” Jazz failed to mention the tiny Maltese hiding in the yellow tote bag over his arm.

  Peggy gave him a coy grin. “Well, I s’pose just this one time. But if he barks or disturbs my customers, out he goes.”

  He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “You’re the best.”

  About twenty diners chatted around tables covered with checked cloths matching the curtains. None of them seemed a bit concerned over Arthur’s presence. Earl joined us and removed his cap before sitting down. “Friend of mine recommended this place. Said the foo
d’s real good.” He smiled at Birdie. “I hope it meets with your approval, little lady.”

  She smiled. “I’m sure it will.”

  “Good, because I can’t tell anymore.” He patted the package of cigarettes in his breast pocket. “The smokes destroyed my sense of taste and smell.”

  I ordered Peggy’s Wednesday lunch special: three crispy pieces of fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob, hot biscuits, and apple pie for dessert. Peggy cooked everything from scratch with fresh ingredients. It was beyond good. All during lunch I slipped tidbits under the table for Arthur.

  Earl looked at Birdie. “I’ll bet you’re a good cook. You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  Lucy put down her fork and nudged me under the table. “I thought you couldn’t taste or smell.”

  I avoided her gaze to keep from laughing.

  The old man shrugged. “That’s right. But if anyone took the trouble to cook for me, I’d show her a lot of appreciation.” He winked at Birdie and finished the last of his coffee. Then he pushed back from the table. “We better git to gitten, folks. We’ve got at least another three hours of driving ahead.”

  Birdie insisted on paying the bill and gave Peggy a generous tip.

  Peggy wrapped a couple of biscuits in a paper napkin and handed it to Jazz. “For the dog.” On the inside of the napkin was her name and a hastily written phone number.

  Back in the Caddy, I turned sideways to fasten my seat belt and caught a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. A sudden jolt of electricity traveled down my spine. A Porsche? I whipped my head toward the back window for a better view, but whatever I had glimpsed was gone. For heaven’s sake, Martha, stop being so paranoid. I decided not to alarm the others just yet.

  Back in the car, Jazz made a phone call. “Did that shipment of silk from Thailand come in yet? Only seven bolts? Call Pradeep and find out where the other three are.” He ended the call and rolled his eyes. “I leave for five minutes and everything falls apart. I swear, you can’t depend on anybody these days.” He sighed. “That’s one of the many reasons I loved Rusty. He was so steady and reliable.”

  “I know what you mean, dear. That’s why I loved him too.”

  Wasn’t that why Birdie married Russell in the first place? She needed an anchor to ground her after that traumatic near-death experience in India.

  By four in the afternoon we reached the town of Yreka and entered the Cascade Mountain range.

  “There’s Mount Lassen.” Birdie pointed to a majestic snow-capped peak in the distance. “We’ll be in Ashland in another hour.”

  I had been too busy glancing out the rear window to enjoy the forest scenery. My muscles had tensed rock solid with anxiety. The fibromyalgia had blossomed into a full-blown assault.

  Really, Martha. How likely is it that some big Swedish rapper in a red Porsche is stalking Russell Watson’s gay lover, or that an international assassin is after a seventy-six-year-old widow with arthritis? Get a grip. No one’s going to attack us today.

  I swallowed my pain meds, sank back in the seat, and closed my eyes. Every muscle in my body ached and my head throbbed. Please don’t let there be any more drama. Just let me crawl into bed soon.

  “Wake up, Martha. We’ve reached Ashland.” Jazz gently shook my arm.

  My jaw had fallen open and my chin was wet with drool. I hastily sat up and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Really, girlfriend?” Lucy stared at me in the rearview mirror. “I never would have guessed from your snoring.”

  “I don’t snore!”

  Jazz bobbed his head rapidly. “Yes, you do, but not a lot.”

  Ashland, Oregon, was the home of the renowned annual Shakespeare Festival. Theater lovers came from all over the country to enjoy the professional performances. Towsley had booked us into the Hotel Falstaff near the site of the festival grounds. Earl gave us directions to the hotel over the two-way radio. “I’ll pick you folks up again at eight in the morning. Over.”

  “Where will you be staying?” Lucy asked.

  “I’m bunking overnight at the Alas Poor Yorick Mortuary.”

  It’s a good thing I’d eaten a large lunch. The hotel served only one menu item each night. Wednesday’s choice was bangers and mash—pork sausage, mashed potatoes, and mushy peas. Since I didn’t eat pork or mushy peas, I just ordered coffee and dessert, a pasty English pudding made with raisins and currants called Spotted Dick.

  Don’t ask.

  We didn’t have adjoining rooms this time, so Arthur and I stayed in the double, guarding Birdie while Lucy slept down the hall.

  Birdie barely spoke through dinner and just pushed the food around her plate. When we got back to our room, I heated some water in the coffeepot and handed her a cup of tea. “How’re you doing?”

  She sighed. “I’ve often dreamed of coming back here. But nothing’s the same. This town is unrecognizable from the little place it was in the sixties. There’s no place for me to park my memories.”

  “Do you want to visit Aquarius?”

  She looked down and massaged her hands together. “It’s much too late for that, dear.” Tears coursed down the wrinkles in her cheeks. “I made my choice a long time ago. I traded the only man I truly loved for a life of safety and stability.”

  My heart squeezed in sympathy. “This must be very hard on you. Are you having second thoughts?”

  She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Not just today. I’ve often wondered over the years if I made the right choice.”

  “But didn’t you tell Lucy and me before that you and Denver continued to see each other as part of your arrangement with Russell?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t the best situation, but it was the only one we had.” Birdie stared into the distance, wrapped in old memories. “We were so passionate. But everything stopped when Feather got pregnant. Denver wasn’t happy about leaving me, but he wanted to do the right thing for the sake of the boy. ‘Set a good example. Give him a stable home,’ he said. In his own way, Denver turned out to be as conscientious as Russell.”

  Conscientious? Sleeping with two women? “So that was the end of your romance with Denver?”

  Birdie dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and nodded. “He did the responsible thing.”

  “Are you prepared to see him tomorrow?”

  She wrung her hands again. “I’m worried sick.”

  “Birdie, do you have any idea what Denver meant when he said he wanted something Russell had that didn’t belong to him?”

  She pushed her brows together. “The only thing I could think of were the bearer bonds. I think they belonged to Russell’s parents. Maybe Denver believes he’s entitled to those bonds, or at least half of them.”

  “What’ll you do if he asks for them?”

  Birdie sighed. “Whatever’s right.”

  Could Denver Watson have had Russell killed for hoarding the bearer bonds? Could he have sent the killer to Birdie’s house to retrieve them? If Birdie decided to keep the bonds, would Denver try to harm her?

  The three of us would have to stick to Birdie like glue once we got to McMinnville. We couldn’t allow Denver to get her alone. We couldn’t let the wolf lure the sheep away from the safety of the herd. Thank God for the Browning and the Glock.

  While I waited for Birdie to finish taking her shower, my cell phone rang.

  “Everyone okay? Where are you?” Beavers.

  “Arthur’s fine. We’re staying in the Hotel Falstaff in Ashland.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ll meet you in McMinnville. It’s not that far from the Rez over on the coast. I haven’t visited my cousins in a while. You might like to see it, too.”

  Oh my God! Beavers was referring to the Siletz Indian Reservation where he grew up with his grandparents. He often talked about taking me there when we were dating.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Arlo. You and me.”

  “
Think about it, Martha. We could start out slow. Just friends. See how things develop. We were so good once.”

  He was partly right. When we were dating, we were great together, at least in the beginning. I felt safe. Cared for. He treated me with respect, but not like a person with her own opinions and desires. Eventually I came to feel constrained by his rigidity. Beavers had to be the one in control at all times. In the end, I couldn’t live with that. And he couldn’t live with my independence.

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but my first obligation is to Birdie. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “Just think about it.”

  CHAPTER 19

  I woke up Thursday morning with a roaring appetite. The breakfast buffet at Hotel Falstaff included a full English board of eggs, sausage, bacon, kippers, baked beans, broiled tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, butter, marmalade, and tea. I avoided the pork and the beans but loaded my plate with everything else. My mood soared after such a satisfying meal, and I looked forward to a pleasant drive to McMinnville.

  Lucy kept texting all through breakfast. Finally she turned off her phone and pressed her lips together.

  I poured some milk into a fresh cup of tea. “What’s the news?”

  “Junior hired a private detective. So far they know Tanya and the three boys boarded a flight to Oahu two days ago.” She looked at me and set her jaw. “She paid for five tickets with her credit card.”

  So Tanya did run away with her kung fu instructor. I had never seen my tall friend look so pissed.

  After breakfast, Lucy rolled my luggage out to the front of the hotel while I took Arthur for one last walk. Five minutes later the German shepherd and I joined the others waiting outside. Overnight temperatures had dipped to fifty degrees, and the morning air was still chilly. Lucy wore a faux mink vest over a long-sleeved T-shirt. Birdie wore a blue cardigan she knitted about ten years ago. Jazz was dressed in a gray suede jacket with a lavender wool scarf hanging around his neck. Zsa Zsa wore a matching lavender sweater with a rhinestone barrette holding her topknot.