by Nic Saint
With some effort, I rolled from the bench and crawled over to the scale that stood nearby. I pushed myself up to my feet and managed to step onto the scale. And sure enough, I’d lost four pounds. I stared at the numbers. This wasn’t possible. I stepped off the scale and on again. Same result. “This is crazy,” I mumbled. But it was true. Somehow, this ordeal had made me lose weight.
“Pretty cool, huh?” asked Estrella. “So are you going to do it again?”
“No way,” I said. “I’d rather die.”
“If you don’t lose weight, you will die,” she assured me.
“That’s not entirely true,” said Ernestine. “Statistically speaking morbid obesity leads to a fifty percent increase in the risk of nonfatal or fatal heart failure. So you still have a decent chance of survival.”
Satisfied she’d delivered all the information relevant to my situation, she returned to her locker, snapped up her phone, plunked down on the bench and returned to the fascinating world of Stephen Hawking.
“Fifty percent? That’s not so bad,” I decided, stepping off the scale. “I like those odds. I think I can live with that.”
“That still leaves a fifty percent chance you won’t get to live with that,” Estrella reminded me.
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I’ve always been lucky. I’m sure I’ll be in the good fifty percent, not the bad one.”
Suddenly, Estrella flung her arms around me and hugged me close. “But I don’t want to lose you, Edie. Please do something about that morbid obesity of yours. I don’t want you to die.”
“Look, first of all I’m not morbidly obese,” I said, trying to peel her away from me. “I’m sure I’m not even obese. I’m just… shapely. And secondly, I have no intention of dying on you. We’re all going to die together, you, me and Stien, in our beds, at the ripe old age of one hundred and one, just like we always said.”
“I know what we said, but I’m thin, and so is Stien. It’s just you that’s… different.”
“Well, you can be different, too,” I said. “You just have to stop skipping breakfast and eat healthy portions, just like I do. And if you do, you might even snag yourself a nice-looking specimen like Sam Barkley, just like I did.”
See what I did there? I turned the whole thing upside down. Give my sisters something to think about. I wasn’t fat. I was curvy. And since curvy was the new sexy, I had a bright future ahead of me. A future without fitness clubs.
Chapter 13
When we arrived home from the gym, I took a long shower. I’d already taken one at the gym, but my muscles still felt like someone had been using them for target practice, so I took another one. When I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my head and another one wrapped around my curvy—non-morbidly-obese—bod, I heard sounds of laughter coming from Gran’s room. I quickly slipped into something comfortable and trotted over.
The door was open, and when I entered I saw that Estrella and Ernestine had made themselves comfortable on Gran’s couch, while Bancroft was doing something with Gran’s hair in front of the vanity mirror. Busby was reading a bodybuilding magazine in a corner while Barnum stood watching Gran intently.
“See? This way you have a lot more volume, which gives your face that characteristic glow,” Bancroft was saying.
“I love it,” said Gran. “If only you could stay here, Bancroft, darling. I’d pay you, too.”
“That’s a great idea,” Estrella exclaimed. “If Busby stays, too, he could be our personal trainer.”
“I would love to stay, darlings,” said Bancroft, “but unfortunately duty calls. I’m starting my new job next week—or I should probably say my new old job, as I’m returning to Revolution Cool, the only trendy beauty salon in Happy Bays. And Busby took his old job at the gym back.”
“That’s right,” said Busby, lowering his magazine. “It’s back to work for the brothers Bell.”
Barnum looked sad. “Can’t I stay here with you chicks?”
“Hey, who are you calling a chick?” Gran asked with a laugh.
“You, Auntie Cassie. You’re a hot chick,” said Barnum unabashedly.
“Why, thank you,” said Gran, pushing at her glossy hairdo.
“You’re welcome,” said Barnum, ever so cutely.
“It’s me,” said Bancroft. “I have the golden touch.”
“So why didn’t it work out for you boys in Hollywood?” asked Gran.
Bancroft heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Because they don’t appreciate genuine talent, Auntie Cassie. “No, they don’t,” he repeated when I gave a skeptical snort. “They had the chance of a lifetime to work with the Bell boys and they blew it.”
“The fact that you hit Steven Spielberg over the head didn’t help,” Busby said as he turned a page of his magazine, which had Arnold Schwarzenegger on the cover.
“You hit Steven Spielberg over the head?” Gran asked, aghast. “But why?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Bancroft said with a frown. “I was hired to do hair and makeup on the set of Mr. Spielberg’s latest movie, and I hadn’t seen him come in. So when I tried to explain something to the thespian in the chair, I accidentally knocked out Steven with my hairdryer. No matter how much I apologized, he still fired me. Can you believe that?”
“Actually, I can,” I said.
Bancroft stuck out his tongue at me, so I returned the gesture in kind.
“I still think we could have made it, if only you hadn’t knocked out Mr. Spielberg again,” Bancroft said, directing a kindling eye at his beefy brother.
Busby shrugged. “I told you, that was an accident.”
“You knocked out Steven Spielberg, too?” asked Gran.
“The guy inserted his head in the trajectory of my dumbbells,” said Busby. “And everyone knows that’s a big no-no when you’re doing dumbbell flyes.”
“He later said he just wanted to ask Busby if he was interested in playing a part in his new movie. Said he had just the right face for the picture he was directing about a kind-hearted but dim-witted Navy SEAL who ends up saving the lives of a bunch of actual baby seals. Based on a true story.”
“So you’re going to be in the new Spielberg movie?” I asked Busby.
“Uh-uh. After I knocked him out with my dumbbell Mr. Spielberg called me a few names that told me I wasn’t going to be in his new movie. Pity. I could have been the next Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth. Oh, well.”
“I’m going to be in the next Steven Spielberg movie,” said Barnum. “I’m going to be a little orphan boy who befriends a big friendly giant and together they go and visit the Queen of England. It’s going to be great.”
“Um, I hate to break it to you, buddy,” I said. “But they already made that movie.”
“Oh,” said Barnum, his face falling. Then he held up his hands. “Oh, well.”
“Knock, knock,” someone said deferentially at the door. We all looked up when Father Reilly tentatively stuck his head in. “Oh, here you all are.”
“Dinner will be served in half an hour, Father,” said Gran, ever the gracious hostess. “We’re just getting ready.”
“And aren’t you the picture of beauty, Mrs. Beadsmore,” said the priest, showing that even men of the cloth can be quite the charmers.
“Why, thank you, Father. You look pretty sharp yourself.”
The priest was dressed in dark slacks, white shirt and gray blazer with a pink stripe. Gran was right. He looked really snazzy. “For you I pull out all the stops,” he said.
“So are we going vampire hunting tonight, Father?” asked Barnum.
“Anything is possible on a night like this, young man,” said the priest, taking a seat on the couch next to us.
“Do you have your holy water to sprinkle on the demon?”
“Yes, I have,” said the priest with a twinkle in his eye.
“And do you have your stake?”
“Of course. I never leave home without it.”
“And your crossbow
?”
“Um, well you got me there, son. I seem to have mislaid my crossbow.”
“It fires silver-tipped arrows. You need those,” the little tyke said seriously. “And your gun with the silver bullets, of course.”
“Of course,” the priest said, exchanging a wink with Gran. “So tonight’s the night, young Barnum?”
“Tonight’s the night,” my cousin confirmed. “There’s a full moon, so there’s gonna be vampires all over the place!” He crawled onto the priest’s lap. “Are you sure you’ve got enough silver bullets, mister?”
“I think so,” said the priest with an amused smile.
“Cause you’re gonna need them.”
“While you guys go vampire hunting, the three of us are going to the movies,” I said.
“Oh?” Gran asked. “I thought you and Sam were going out by yourselves?”
“Sam needs to atone,” said Estrella, “so he’s taking us all out for dinner and a movie.”
“Atone? Atone for what?” Gran wanted to know.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Why don’t you tell it now?” Gran asked. “I’m sure we’d all like to know what’s going on with you and Sam. Edelie is seeing Sam Barkley,” Gran told Father Reilly. “The detective who was here this morning?”
“Oh, right,” said Father Reilly. “A strapping young man. Really strapping.”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, finding the priest’s estimation of Sam endearing.
“Sam was out of town on some police business,” Ernestine began, “and he neglected to call Edelie for four straight days and nights.”
“Oh, no. That’s a really terrible thing to do,” Gran agreed with a slight smile. “I think he deserves every punishment he gets.”
“Wait. It gets better,” Estrella said.
“Strel,” I said warningly.
“She deserves to know what kind of person we’re dealing with here,” said Estrella. “So he tells Edie he didn’t call because his partner died on the job.”
“Oh, my,” said Gran. “That’s terrible.”
“But turns out his partner didn’t die. Sam lied about that.”
“His partner almost died,” I said. “And Sam was so shook up that he didn’t call. He explained everything to me and we’re fine.”
“But we’re still going to punish him,” said Ernestine. “Just because we can.”
“Just because we must,” Estrella clarified. “We have to stick by our sister.”
“And extort a free meal and a movie out of a low-paid cop,” Stien said.
“Well, it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have lied.”
“I think I know why Sam didn’t call,” said Gran.
I looked up. Gran always knows stuff she can’t possibly know.
“I think Sam really likes you, Edie, and you’re at that stage in a relationship where things are starting to get serious… and a little scary.”
I felt my cheeks flush. I wasn’t ready to hear these things, especially not with my three cousins, my two sisters, and a house guest present. “Well, we’re not really that serious,” I told her. “Just… dating, I guess.”
“He likes you,” said Gran knowingly. “And you like him.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I said, suddenly getting all hot under the collar.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “He’ll gladly take you and your sisters out for dinner and a movie, not because he must, but because he likes you so much he’ll even accept your crazy family.”
“Hey, who are you calling crazy?” Estrella cried.
“You,” Ernestine said helpfully. “And me,” she added after a pause.
“We’re all a little crazy,” said Gran. “I’m just a dotty old bird, Strel is a singer who can’t sing, Edie a baker who can’t bake, Stien a lawyer who can’t lawyer, and Busby and Bancroft keep hitting Steven Spielberg in the face.”
“I can sing,” said Estrella. “I sing like a nightingale.”
“Sure you do,” I muttered.
“Well, I do!”
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” I said.
“What about me?” asked Barnum. “Am I crazy, too?”
“You are the craziest of all,” said Gran. “With your vampires and your German invaders. And next time you touch my flower beds I’m going to be shooting you with a silver arrow, understand, you little rapscallion?”
“You can’t shoot me with a silver arrow!” Barnum cried, jumping from Father Reilly’s lap and kicking his shin in the process. “I’m not a vampire! Silver arrows don’t work on me!”
And with these words, he raced from the room, only for Gran to race after him. We could hear them running up and down the corridor, Barnum shrieking like a hyena and Gran warning him she was going to catch him.
Yeah, my family is completely bonkers. And that’s why I love them.
Chapter 14
The swanky dinner place turned out to be the Steak House around the corner from the precinct. It was actually a pretty great place, and the steak was really good, too. Turned out a lot of cops frequented this restaurant, and we got to meet a few of them. Not Pierre, though, who was still in the hospital.
After dinner, Sam took us to the United Artists Sheepshead Bay Cinema to watch Murder on the Orient Express, the classic Agatha Christie story, only this time with Johnny Depp in the lead, along with Michelle Pfeiffer and Judi Dench.
The moment the lights were doused, and I sank deeper into my seat, I saw a hand dive into my bucket of popcorn. I slapped the hand away.
“Hey! You told me to eat like you, so I get all curvy like you,” Strel hissed.
“You’ve got your own bucket,” I hissed back.
“Yours is better.”
“They’re the exact same.”
“No, yours has butter.”
“Oh, for God’s sakes,” I muttered, and yanked my bucket away from her groping hands.
“If you want I can get your sister another bucket,” Sam whispered.
“No, you already bought her dinner and a movie. She’s on her own.”
“You’re so cruel,” he said jokingly.
“She’s my younger sister. I have to be cruel. It’s an older sister’s obligation.”
“I’m only five minutes younger than you!” Strel loud-whispered.
“That still makes me your older sister!”
“Can you guys stop talking?” Ernestine said. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”
“Yeah, we better follow along,” Sam agreed. “It’s a murder mystery. You have to follow along from the beginning, or else you miss all the clues.”
This gave me pause. “Have you found any clues in Mrs. Peach’s murder?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Working how? How are you working on it?”
“Yeah, you’re at the cinema, Sam. You’re not working on it,” Estrella said, leaning over me to dig her hand into Sam’s popcorn. “Mh. Yours is even better.”
“They’re all the exact same popcorn!”
“No, they’re not. That girl at the popcorn stand took one look at Sam and gave him a bucket of her premier popcorn and gave us the stale leftovers.”
“I saw her scoop it up. It’s all the same.” Though it was true that the girl only had eyes for Sam. If I met her in a dark alley one night, I just might have to challenge her into a hair pulling fight. And she had such nice golden hair, too. Perfect for pulling.
“Stop ruining my movie already!” Ernestine hissed. “Hey, Strel is right. Your popcorn really is better, Sam.”
“Right?” Strel asked, giving Stien some more of Sam’s popcorn.
“So what clues?” I asked again.
“I can’t disclose any of that at this point,” said Sam. “Now just watch the movie. You don’t want to miss out on trying to figure out who done it.”
“I already know who done it,” said Strel. “I read the Wikipedia page.”
“
Don’t tell me,” I told her. “Don’t you dare.”
“It’s—”
But I’d put my fingers in my ears, which was hard to do with all the popcorn I had just scooped up, and was humming loudly. She was not going to ruin the movie for me. And if it turned out Johnny Depp had done it, I was going to sue the movie company. I tentatively removed a finger and glanced over at Strel, who sat innocently chewing away from my popcorn.
“She was just teasing you,” said Ernestine. “She doesn’t really know who did it. I know, because I read the book, and I would never tell you. That’s just a horrible thing to do.”
“Oh, relax already,” said Strel. “It’s just a movie, you guys.”
“I can tell you one thing,” Sam said, leaning in. “I talked to Paloma Peach this afternoon, and she told me a few things about her sister that made my head spin. Leann actually manipulated her father into changing his will so Paloma was removed and Leann became the sole beneficiary, inheriting the house and about fifty thousand bucks. Paloma fought her on it but lost.”
“Wow. So she definitely had motive to kill her sister.”
“Yeah, but why wait fifteen years to do it? Besides, she has an alibi. She was at the farmer’s market this morning, and plenty of people can vouch for her. She also told me she and her sister made up.”
“So much for Paloma Peach. Oh, I talked to Lucy Peanut. The next-door neighbor?”
“The raw foodie.”
“That’s the one. She told me Leann destroyed her vegetable garden by dumping a bunch of beetles in it.”
He grinned. “I was going to talk to her next but you beat me to it. I wonder why Mrs. Peach would destroy a perfectly innocent vegetable garden.”
“I know why. Lucy Peanut once made a remark about Snoozles peeing on her tomatoes and told Leann to keep her cat in her own yard from now on. So Leann struck back by destroying those same tomatoes.”
“It all seems so petty.”
“Petty was Leann Peach’s middle name, it seems.”
“Shush,” Ernestine said. “This is the part where you pay attention.”
“Oh, you’re going to explain everything to us later anyway,” I said.
“No, I won’t. If you don’t pay attention I’m not telling you anything.”
