The Once and Future Scream Queen: Marlene Ambrosia Mysteries

by Brianna Bates

  Marlene thought it was a rhetorical question, but Artie waited patiently for her answer. He looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

  “Fourteen years … Things are pretty much the same. The mayor is still running things.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” Artie shook his head. “Look, Marlene, I feel like I can trust you.”

  A look mixed with hope and desperation filled the man’s eyes. It was a shock to see him that way because normally he was so cool and self-assured.

  “Of course,” Marlene said.

  He nodded gratefully. “That’s why I always liked you. You weren’t like the other girls. High school seemed like a four-year stretch of endless gossip, and people talking about each other behind their backs. It was exhausting.”

  Marlene’s eyes popped. “Artie, you were the most popular kid in school.”

  He shook his head. “I was popular, yes, but that only invited more gossip. And everybody did not like me. A lot of people only pretended to. I learned that lesson the hard way.”

  He was making an oblique reference to his friend, Lance, who had cheated on him with Gwen O’Vear the summer after senior year. Or so the rumor went.

  Marlene was totally dumbfounded. This man had lived the quintessential all-American male existence. In high school, he’d had everything: looks, charm, intelligence, athleticism, romance. He’d dated all the prettiest girls and had been Prom King in not just his senior year, but also his junior year, a feat unheard of before and unlikely to be matched ever.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I never realized…”

  When he looked back up, he was smiling. “It’s ridiculous for me to complain. I’ve had a great life. A lot of people had a much more difficult time. But high school wasn’t the best time for me.”

  He sounded sincere, and she could barely comprehend what he was saying. From outward appearances, Artie had had the time of his life. He was the envy of all the boys and the heart throb for all the girls.

  “I wish I could have been more like you,” he said.

  “Me?” She had no idea where this was going.

  “You always did your own thing. You never got all hung up in the drama. And I’ll admit … I had a bit of a crush on you.”

  “What?” She practically shouted.

  “Shhhh.” There was a marvelous twinkle in his eye. He really was handsome. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You just put me at ease.”

  For the first time in her life, Marlene had no idea what to say. “Uh, well, thanks, Artie. That’s really nice of you to say.”

  “So …” Was he blushing? “A life coach, huh?”

  She realized she was holding her breath. “Yes. I’ve always been good at giving people advice.”

  “I can see that.” He leaned back in his chair. “I remember when you told Lance how to climb the ropes in fifth grade.”

  Marlene didn’t remember that at all. She didn’t believe it had happened—how could she give someone else advice on rope-climbing when she couldn’t get more than foot off the floor herself?

  Diane returned with two waters and a black-and-white shake. She left the drinks, reminded Artie he could get his plate and silverware right at the salad bar, and ducked back into the kitchen.

  “Are you really going to drink that milk shake?” Marlene asked.

  “Only if you share it with me.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know if my stomach can take anything right now.” Gwen O’Vear’s dead body appeared in her mind again. And for some reason, Marlene pictured Gwen suddenly opening her eyes and picking her head up and looking at her.

  You were the cause, Marlene.

  Marlene was jolted out of the strange, and very sudden, daydream that had felt so real by Artie’s rich baritone voice.

  “Come on. It’s your birthday. You should celebrate.” Artie offered her the straw. She peeled the wrapper off and dropped the straw into the shake. After stirring for a second, Marlene leaned forward and sipped.

  “That is delicious.”

  “See?”

  “Now your turn.”

  He put his straw in and drank. “Ahhh.”

  “Good idea about getting a shake.”

  “I’m full of good ideas.” He sipped a little bit more. “But I’ve hit a road block on something recently and wanted to pick your brain.”

  Marlene couldn’t believe the direction this conversation had taken. He had thrown her some very flattering compliments with sincerity and admitted to having a crush on her … which was impossible to believe. Part of her thought that was just Artie being Artie. It was a harmless lie, since high school had been such a long time ago.

  Don’t ever forget he’s a politician.

  She smiled. “What is it?”

  He groaned. “The budget. I’ve got support from two of the five council members but can’t get the other three to get on board. They’re too interested in keeping the status quo.” He shook his head. “There are all these vague line items in the budget for municipal contracts and when something is undefined like that, it turns into a discretionary spending. You know what I mean?”

  “Not really,” Marlene said. “I’m afraid politics and me are like oil and vinegar.”

  “Ha.” He pointed at her. “You mean oil and water.”

  She frowned. That was what her mother had always said, oil and vinegar. “No, that’s what I meant.”

  He smiled. “Oil and vinegar will actually blend together. But not oil and water.”

  She didn’t like him correcting her over such a minor thing. “So … the budget.”

  “You were never one to get side-tracked.” He laughed. “And I hear you, about not liking politics. Or politicians. For the most part, we’ve earned our lousy reputations. Just like lawyers. But there are good people in the profession, Marlene. There are people that want to make a difference. They’re few and far between, because to be truly good, to look out for constituents before yourself, is not easy. Over time these institutions form. The political machine. When you start out, you have to work with it. You can’t just ignore it. There are all these arcane practices and odd precedents—and God forbid you ever cross somebody.”

  “It sounds like pretty much the worst job ever.”

  He sighed. Even though he’d a politician for less than a year, he seemed tired. “The people elected me based on the strength of my service record and nostalgia, but I don’t want this to be some cush job. I’m really trying to make a difference.”

  He sounded so sincere. Marlene sat forward. “Who has to approve the budget?”

  “First, the council. I’m supposed to get majority support before we present it to the mayor. He has final say and can basically veto everything.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll bet a lot of those municipal contracts are just for shell companies. He won’t want to get rid of them because he uses them to line his own pocket.”

  Artie regarded her carefully. “You said it, not me. I want to make some changes, but first I have to convince the council. If I get past them, then the mayor has to bless it.”

  All of a sudden, the answer came to Marlene. It was crystal-clear what he had to do and somehow obvious to her, who hated politics and scheming.

  Artie shook his head. “It’s not right, Marlene. If I want to make a difference, I have to challenge the mayor. If I challenge the mayor, I can kiss my career goodbye. Putting a budget like this in front of him will be like crossing the Rubicon. Once you make an enemy of Mal A. Gant, you’ve made an enemy for life.”

  She smiled, a strange feeling of pride filling her. “Let’s think this through. Mayor Gant’s approval ratings right now have to be lower than ever before.”

  “Approval ratings?” He laughed. “This is Medboro, not Washington, D.C.”

  “I’m willing to bet it’s true though.”

  He nodded. “Probably.”

  “And when is your budget proposal due?”

  “By week’s end, b
ut I need to get buy-in from everybody else first.”

  “I see.” Marlene thought about it. “Well, you could—”

  “ARTIE!”

  Marlene nearly had a heart attack as Gwendolyn Hilderbrand rushed to their table.

  “Artie, did you hear about Gwen?!”

  He smiled sadly. “Yes, it is terrible news.”

  “You knew?” Gwendolyn literally pouted. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You might have been known as the two Gwens, but you two didn’t really care for each other in high school,” Artie said. “And it seemed like a strange thing to bring up.”

  Gwendolyn wasn’t happy with that explanation. “I can’t believe it. A murder. Right in our town.”

  Artie said nothing as she walked off. Marlene caught him watching her the whole way back to the hostess stand.

  She didn’t really want to help him. Politics was a dirty business and she didn’t want anything to do with it.

  Then again, one suggestion wouldn’t hurt. Artie’s desire to enter the political arena might not have been borne out of all noble intentions, but then again Mayor Gant needed a challenger. And if Artie’s budget proposal got approved, it could do a lot of good for the community.

  Just one little piece of advice was okay. It didn’t mean she was going to be Artie’s campaign manager.

  “Sooo,” Marlene said. “Your budget. I had an idea.”

  Artie was still looking back at Gwendolyn. He hadn’t even heard her. Typical male. Distracted by a big pair of boobs and a woman who flaunted her figure.

  He turned back, realizing she’d spoken. “What did you say?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Oh, come on, Marlene. You always have great ideas. I’m all ears.”

  Okay, buddy, you want an idea? How about a bad one?

  “Listen,” she said. “This is going to sound crazy but it could work.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Can’t wait to hear this.”

  Seven

  “Marlene.” Artie made a face like he’d just swallowed mud. “I appreciate your time.”

  He stood quickly and put down a couple twenties, tipping generously.

  Marlene folded her arms. Now that she’d given her bad advice, instead of feeling good she felt horrible. Low. Petty.

  “Artie, I was … I was just kidding.”

  He forced a laugh. “Yes, I figured you didn’t want me to accuse the mayor’s wife of cheating with his highest-ranking Cabinet member.”

  She felt awful. Sick, even, for trying to give him poor advice. “Just a bad joke.”

  Artie slid back into the booth. His smile became apologetic. “Look, Marlene, I like your thinking outside the box here.”

  Marlene groaned at the political double-speak. “What did you actually do when you served overseas?”

  All at once the movie star smile faded as his mouth relaxed into a disapproving expression.

  “I served with honor,” Artie said. “I lived for my men, I bled with them, I was prepared to die for them. And I nearly did.”

  Artie rose again, but this time all traces of the teenager she’d known were gone. The man that stood before her was serious, commanding, and driven. Though his face betrayed no emotion, she knew her words had cut him to the quick.

  “Artie, I’m—”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Marlene.”

  He strode out of the restaurant.

  “Sorry,” Marlene finished.

  ***

  Marlene stopped at the coffee shop to see her sister. With her office considered a crime scene and no other appointments scheduled for the day, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  Ganny was leaned over the counter, chatting up a dreamy guy. And unless he wore a wedding ring in an ironic fashion, he was clearly a married man. When Ganny noticed her coming toward the counter, her sister straightened up and rummaged through the cash register to hand over the man’s change.

  “Here you go, thanks for coming in.”

  The man smiled a little too warmly at Ganny and held his coffee out at her. His wedding finger was conspicuous in that pose.

  Marlene couldn’t help herself. “Listen.”

  She already knew what was going to happen, even if this guy didn’t. He’d try to have an affair with Ganny, his wife would find out, and she’d kick him out of the house. It was so obvious. He would ruin his family and the relationship with Ganny wouldn’t last. Why couldn’t anybody else see these things like her? “Your wife will find out.”

  “Marlene!” Ganny protested.

  Marlene ignored her sister. Sometimes, Ganny needed somebody watching out for her. Okay, most of the time Ganny needed somebody to watch out for her. The guy was looking at Marlene with a terrified expression.

  “She’ll pick up your phone off the dresser and punch in your password, because it’s the same one you use for email—”

  “Who are you?” The man scowled. “And how did you know about my dresser?”

  “What are you talking about?” Marlene asked.

  The man realized nothing good could come out of this conversation for him, so he quickly retreated out of the coffee shop.

  Ganny had one eyebrow arched. “What was that?”

  “I should be asking you that question.”

  “What?” Ganny smiled when she looked away. “It’s okay to flirt with people.”

  “He was married.”

  “Marlene, I wasn’t going to jump into bed with him.” Ganny closed the register and sat on the stool behind the counter.

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “I was going to jump him in the car.” Ganny laughed throatily. “And so what if I did?”

  Marlene opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. Whenever she started to act too much like a big sister, Ganny just shut down.

  Ganny pretended to check her nail polish. “It’s the twenty-first century, Mar, and a lot of people are in open relationships these days.”

  Marlene covered her ears. “I’m not hearing this, I’m not hearing this.”

  Ganny laughed and came out from behind the counter to give her big sister a big hug. “Happy Birthday! So what does thirty-two feel like?”

  “After thirty, I’ll bet they all feel the same.” Her thirtieth had been a depressing occasion. At the time, she’d been stuck in a dead-end job and was struggling to get her side business of life coaching off the ground. But she’d pulled through.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what thirty feels like.”

  Marlene playfully whacked her shoulder. “Not yet.”

  Ganny giggled mischievously. Of the two of them, she’d always been the trouble-maker. And of course, she’d gotten away with everything. Marlene, on the other hand, had stepped out of line two or three times tops in school, and she’d been caught red-handed every single time.

  “Coffee?” Ganny asked.

  “Please.”

  Ganny went to work behind the counter. There were only a few other people in the coffee shop, the conversation muted, while an instrumental sound track played over the speakers.

  “You know,” Ganny said. “You and I couldn’t be any more different.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind a few times.”

  Ganny finished with the coffee and brought it over. She sat down at a table with Marlene. The steam rose off the coffee. Marlene put her nose over the cup and inhaled. The roast smelled delicious.

  “Did you ever think that maybe one of us was adopted?” Ganny said.

  “No.” Marlene laughed. From time-to-time, Ganny got randomly crazy ideas. This must have been one of them.

  “I’ve actually thought about it for a long time. I mean … we don’t look alike.”

  It was true. Marlene was tall, fair, and auburn-haired, while Ganny had an olive complexion and dirty blond hair. They could stand next to each other and passers-by wouldn’t peg them for sisters.

  “Right,” Marlene said. “You look like Mom.” />
  Mom was Greek, Italian, and they liked to joke had a little bit of the Middle East in her.

  “And you don’t look like Dad,” Ganny said.

  It had been so long since they’d seen their father, Marlene had a hard time remembering what he looked like, except in the few pictures she’d seen hidden away. He was a thin, severe-looking man with fierce eyes that could look right through you.

  “No …” Marlene had never considered this. “I guess I’m a cross between them.”

  Ganny shook her head and reached into her shirt pocket. Marlene didn’t know what she was doing and was surprised when her sister put a color photograph in front of her.

  “I found this last night.”

  “What is—”

  Marlene stopped before she finished the sentence. It was a picture of a man she’d never seen before. Dressed in a white hospital gown, he looked very young to Marlene.

  “Who is this?” Marlene was at a total loss.

  “I know. It’s weird, right?” Ganny said, as usual being her flip self.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “One of the boxes Mom left up here. I was looking through her record collection, and this fell out of her lone Prince album.”

  Prince? Now Marlene was really confused. “She hates Prince. I’ve never heard her talk bad about a musician before, but she couldn’t stand that guy.”

  Ganny shrugged. “Well, that’s where I found the picture.”

  Marlene took another look at the picture. They were standing on a nice lawn with a big building looming in the background. It looked like a school, or a small college … then Marlene realized.

  “It’s a mental hospital.”

  Ganny nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  “But Mom never … she never said anything.”

  “I know, right?” Ganny said. “Pretty strange. Anyway, when I saw this picture, it reminded me of you.”

  “Me?”

  “You kind of look like him.”

  “What?” Marlene felt her stomach drop. She studied the picture very closely. “No, I don’t.”

  Before Ganny could answer, the bell on the door pinged as another customer came in. Ganny got up and went back behind the register, leaving the photo for Marlene.