Another Hour to Kill

by Anita Higman

  Dedra looked around the room. “Looks like you’re making some headway in this room. It’s a lot cleaner. I can see the grain in the wooden floor. Looks good.”

  “Thanks. And I finally bought something besides just a bed.” I pointed to pieces of oak furniture I’d purchased.”

  “Mmm.” Dedra ran her hand over the armoire. “You and Max will be handing this down to your children as an heirloom. Oak is so sturdy and beautiful. It will last a long time.” Her voice sounded wistful.

  It was hard to tell if Dedra was downhearted for some reason or merely lost in thought. I released my concerns and opened the closet door.

  We both stepped inside. “Here’s the panel of wood that lifts up like a sliding door.” I got a firm grip on the wood trim and gave it a good tug. The door rolled up almost as easily as it had on the first day of discovery. That had only been weeks ago, and yet the time span felt like years.

  Dedra gasped. “Okay. Now we’re talking.” She did a little jig. “Way more intriguing than I imagined.”

  I chuckled at her theatrics.

  She turned on the flashlight, knelt down in front of the opening, and then looked down inside the tunnel. “Ohhhh,” her voice echoed. “It’s just like in the movies. And there’s that makeshift ladder you talked about.” She looked back at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t show me this sooner. This is unbelievable.”

  “Sorry.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  Dedra blew a curly strand of hair off her forehead and rolled her eyes. “I know I can be a blabbermouth sometimes.” She looked back in the hole. “But, someday when you’re ready, I’ll bet the media would be very interested in this tunnel. I could see a camera crew. The whole shebang. They’d probably want to do a documentary on Prohibition in Houston, and they could use this house as the focal point of their story. Wouldn’t that just put our lives into a giddy spasm?”

  I suddenly remembered why I didn’t tell Dedra about the tunnel right away.

  She pointed the flashlight at some of the jars of alcohol and made some more ooohs and ahhs. After she’d shined the light on every square inch of the tunnel, Dedra sat up and leaned against the closet wall. “I mean, I can sort of understand why you don’t want to tell the whole world, but you’ve barely told anybody.”

  How could someone as open and friendly as Dedra understand my need to hold back? She wouldn’t mind people stampeding to her bedroom closet. She’d probably set up a concession stand and sell snow cones and daisies. “I don’t want visitors,” I said, thinking how silly that sounded. But now I felt there was good reason to keep things under wraps. What if Dedra offhandedly mentioned the passage to Vlad? He’d have even more motivation to search for a treasure. He’d probably fly over my house in a crop dusting plane and drop a load of hallucinogens! “I don’t want to tell people quite yet. Okay?”

  A baffled, almost annoyed expression crossed Dedra’s face, but then she seemed to settle back to her old self. “Would it be all right for me to climb down in there?” She stuck her head in the tunnel and yelled the last part again. Her voice came back in an echo.

  “The ladder’s unstable. I fell, but caught myself just in time. The fall would have killed me.”

  “Got it.” Dedra’s hands went up. “No problem.” She rose from the floor and dusted off her skirt and blouse. “Boy, the people living here were up to some pretty weird games. I never spent that much time thinking about Prohibition. I mean, Mrs. Belvedere, my high school history teacher covered it in class, but this is all so intimate. . .finding these secrets of theirs.” Dedra put her hands on her hips. “I still can’t get over the fact that you found this place. And simply because of a hint from your grandmother.”

  “Well, it was more than a hint. Granny was never subtle when it came to stuff she wanted you to remember. She mentioned the passage from her nightmare quite a few times. In fact, she may have even bought the house because it reminded her of that recurring dream.” I smiled. “She was eccentric, but in a wonderful kind of way.”

  Dedra gathered her hands in her lap. “Can’t get over it.” She gestured across the room. “All of this. . .it was your destiny.”

  Sometimes it did feel that way. Suddenly, I wanted to tell Dedra everything about the Sisterhood of the Penumbra and Vlad’s scheme. But I hesitated. And that hesitancy made me feel like such a jerk. Of course, that was nothing new.

  Dedra tapped her finger on her chin. “I guess if I had to pick something, I would say that Ozzie’s one fault is that he gets distracted easily.”

  Boy, that came out of the blue. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I think other women notice his good qualities too, and so they stop and chat. They’re just so attracted to him. And he has lots of friends and acquaintances all over Houston. I mean we can’t go anywhere that he’s doesn’t draw an adoring crowd. He doesn’t flirt. But sometimes he does seem to get sidetracked. . .a little.”

  Hmm. Ozzie’s flaw could indeed prove to be troublesome. Just as I tried to think of an honest, but gentle reply, the doorbell rang.

  “Maybe that’s Ozzie.” Dedra’s eyes brightened.

  “But why would he pick you up here?”

  “Oh, he knew where I’d be.”

  Dedra was already heading out my bedroom door before my brain clicked in that I needed to get dressed and follow her. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him,” she hollered back to me. “He’s almost hairless like a newborn mole, but his head is sooo adorable.”

  A newborn mole? Who was this guy?

  “Oh, and I don’t even mind that he’s rich,” Dedra yelled, laughing.

  I tossed on some jeans and a T-shirt, raked a comb through my hair, and raced downstairs. “Hi,” I said to the stranger in the entryway who must certainly be Ozzie since he had himself draped all over Dedra. With his boots, cowboy hat, and round belt buckle the size of a water tower, the man looked like he’d fallen out of a rerun of Gunsmoke. Then I remembered. I was in Texas.

  “Howdy,” the man said, glancing all around with wide eyes. “This is some kind of place you have here.”

  “Thanks.” I shook his hand, but when I tried to pull away, he held on for a second or two longer than was necessary.

  “Good to meet you, Bailey. Dedra here praises you up and down.”

  “Oh?” And then this man named Ozzie looked me up and down in a way that made me redden—and made me want to slap him into the next county. If this was the “getting sidetracked” flaw Dedra mentioned, then she was in big trouble. Fortunately for now, Dedra had missed the scene, since she’d had her head nestled against him. But her boyfriend was more than a guy who got distracted easily; he was a louse. “And you must be Ozzie.”

  He slapped his leg. “Been Ozzie since the day I was born.”

  Then the man imploded with laughter, his face flushing so red he looked like he might lose consciousness or simply blow up. I couldn’t help but wish he would. “Well, isn’t that something.”

  Ozzie calmed himself down and then turned to Dedra. “You ready to go, Darlin’?”

  Dedra gazed at him with wistful eyes. “Yes.”

  “We’re headed to an old-fashioned barbeque at a friend’s house.” Ozzie gave me a leering wink as he gave Dedra a squeeze. “It’s making my mouth water just thinking about it.”

  I looked back and forth at the two of them, and this time I got a jolt of fear for Dedra. Was she still on her medication? What did she possibly see in him?

  “Bye now.” Dedra gave me a tiny wave.

  I gave them a scrawny, miserable little smile.

  Dedra flitted down the porch stairs on the wings of innocent joy, oblivious to her boyfriend’s darker qualities.

  Just behind her, Ozzie walked away with his hat in his hand and a shiny head that rivaled the sun. He glanced back at me, his expression laced with mischievous intent.

  I shut the door, feeling something sour rising in my stomach.

  13 �
�� A Bucket of Panic

  Poor Dedra. Always so deserving of love, and yet always so let down. Should I tell her what Ozzie is really like? It would hurt her terribly, and yet the pain later on would be far worse if I didn’t tell her.

  After a few moments of drifting in thought, the doorbell rang again. It crossed my mind not to answer it, and to instead return to my previously scheduled engagement called, “looking for the cellar,” but I took a gander in the peephole anyway. It was Max all decked out in slacks, a crisp white shirt, and tie. What was the occasion?

  On opening the door, we sort of met halfway in an embrace. We lingered for a while, letting our bodies settle into a comfortable hug. The moment felt so good, I wished we could walk away from my house and fly off somewhere. Anywhere. A place where I could just love Max. And he could love me. But that thinking would have to be left for the cinema.

  “Hi.” He smiled.

  “Hi yourself.”

  Max continued to hold me. “I’ve come to take you out for brunch.”

  So, the special occasion was me. I love this guy. “That sounds wonderful, since I’m starving.” The cellar expedition would just have to take a backseat. Max and food were always top priorities.

  “You know, if you have time today maybe I could take you on a little tour of our Bayou City. You know, stuff you haven’t seen yet.” Max kissed my forehead. “We could pretend to be tourists all day, and I could take you to Space Center Houston or Moody Gardens or The Aquarium downtown. You choose. What do you think?”

  “It all sounds like fun.”

  “It will be.” Max lowered his lips to my mouth.

  A shrill, but cheerful voice sliced through our snug world. That voice sounded familiar. I gently pulled away from Max.

  “Yoohoo, sweeties, you’ll have plenty of time for that after the honeymoon. Right now Dolly has come to the rescue.” Dolly, Max’s infamous cousin, marched up the steps. “Bailey and I are heading out to shop for a wedding gown. And then we’re going to lunch. I’ve got reservations at the Blue Lakes Club.” She raised her hands in the air as if she’d just announced we’d won a sweepstakes.

  Max grinned. “Well, hello, Dolly.”

  “Hi there.” I guess Dolly didn’t believe in calling first. Maybe I could convince her that Max and I already had plans and that we could schedule another date. I looked at the bright, eager expression on her face, and my idea wilted. Oh, well. I was in need of a white dress. That was certain. “Sounds good.”

  The teeniest groan escaped Max’s lips. “I’ll miss you at lunch,” he whispered in my ear.

  “I’ll be neck deep in organza, perfume, and female yak.” I hoped those tedious facts would help him get over the disappointment quickly.

  “I still want to come along.” He stroked the inner curve of my arm and looked at me with such yearning I thought maybe Dolly could go find another victim. Now, that wasn’t very nice, Bailey. She’s only trying to help. And I need it. “I don’t know the rules very well,” I said to Max, “but I don’t think the groom is supposed to help pick out the gown.”

  “Please, that is such a no-no.” Dolly’s expressions and gestures were exaggerated, a breath away, in fact, from being farcical. “Max, shame on you.” Her face softened. “But I do remember my husband wanted to come along too. I wouldn’t let him, of course.”

  Twenty-nine and a half minutes later, after listening to Dolly tell me about her micro-derma abrasion and her spider vein laser treatment in staggering detail, and after hearing more about Max’s past girlfriends than I ever wanted to know, we finally arrived at the Bridal Show Palace. The building looked almost spectacular enough to belong on the strip in Vegas.

  Dolly and I entered the shop, but no twirling mirrored disco balls were spotted. Only classical music and elegance at every turn. A multitude of crystal chandeliers lit the room, and curving rows of gowns meandered like frothy streams. With all the ladies fluttering about, there was a general feeling of cheerful tumult.

  We paused a moment to take it all in and then made our way down the powder blue carpeted stairs. Dolly sashayed in her wispy dress, and I more or less tramped in behind her, still wearing my jeans, T-shirt, and no makeup.

  The moment we stepped down into the pit of activity, a young woman rushed over to us with an orthodontic smile and beauty pageant wave. “Someone will be with you momentarily,” she crooned.

  “That’s okay. I’d rather just browse.” I expected Dolly to add her comment, but she just smiled.

  “Well, enjoy the enchantment of our palace,” the young woman declared, “and embrace the princess inside you!”

  Okay. Will do.

  The woman floated off like a cherry blossom in the breeze.

  Brides-to-be and their moms bustled around the room, searching for that perfect wedding gown. They looked pretty intense, so I reminded myself to stay two steps away from the friendly fire. But in spite of their rabid focus, the sight was endearing. The mothers surely knew these were some of the last moments with their daughters before they moved on with their own lives, their own families. I thought of my mother and my Granny and wished they could have been here to help me choose a gown—to share in the joy of whirling around looking frantic, doing something that would change everyone’s lives.

  I looked at Dolly. God sent Dolly to me. She’d certainly provide the frantic part. Bailey Marie, stop that. I begged the Lord for a sweet spirit, and clouds for my aching feet.

  “Well, dig in,” Dolly said. “There’s bound to be something here.”

  I lifted out one of the gowns, and stared at it. Nice, but too Renaissance-looking with its overskirt, poufy sleeves, and laced-up bodice. Instead of saying “I do,” I’d look like I was about to quote Shakespeare. And poor Max would be stuck wearing tights, a cape, and a sword. Now, that would be memorable. I put the dress back on the rack.

  Then my gaze drifted upward. A man who looked familiar walked by the shop’s window. He glanced inside. Was it Vlad Tepes? What was he doing here? Following me? My whole whirling world of loveliness just got doused with a bucket of panic.

  “What’s wrong?” Dolly touched my arm. “You look ill.”

  “Excuse me for a sec.” Without sending out alarm signals all over the bridal shop, I subtly trotted back up the stairs. Was Vlad in some kind of stalking mode?

  I looked through the big front window. No one stood on the sidewalk. No cars pulled away. Perhaps he’d slipped back into his car. He’d been driving his stepbrother’s black Mercedes, but no vehicle in the parking lot fit that description.

  After stepping outside, I looked down. A gob of green gum sat innocently on the sidewalk. It was big and juicy and fresh, just waiting for some poor slob to stroll by and have a gooey appendage on their shoe. Hmm. Someone had just dropped it. Was Vlad a gum chewer?

  I laughed at myself. I had best get back to browsing. When I returned to my row of gowns, Dolly gave me a questioning glance.

  “Is everything all right?”

  I nodded. “I think so. Just thought I saw someone I knew.” I thought Dolly would pursue the matter much more thoroughly, but she went right back to her burrowing. Perhaps she was more discreet than people gave her credit for.

  Dolly gasped and held a dress up for me to check out. The thing was ghastly in a Morticia Addams sort of way with its tight skirt, skinny train, and high-neck collar. But what could I say? I almost passed out from holding my breath, trying to cook up something that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

  Dolly burst out laughing. “This thing is hideous. I was just testing you.” She winked.

  I chuckled.

  “You are so sweet, though. I know you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. By the way, have you selected your bridesmaids yet?”

  The question sounded loaded. Did she ask because she wanted to be in the wedding? “Well, I guess Dedra Morgan will be my maid-of-honor, and Magnolia Waters, well, instead of a bridesmaid, I’d like her to sit in for my family.” I knew that would please both Dedra
and Magnolia, and it would please me as well. Dolly didn’t look disappointed that I didn’t ask her to be a part of the wedding party, so perhaps I had misread her.

  As I started on the second row of gowns, I pulled out one or two that showed promise. Dolly showed me a few she really did love, but mostly we just methodically made our way through the startling array of merchandise.

  I tried to remain focused, thinking on what I liked and didn’t like, what would look good with my body shape, what would please Max, and every other angle brides were supposed to fret over; but every time my thoughts took off elsewhere they landed right back at my house and the cellar that needed to be found. Could I duck out of lunch? Would Dolly be hurt? Yes, Dolly would be hurt. Can’t do that.

  I turned the corner and caught my breath. I found it—the perfect gown. The one on the mannequin. No puckers of taffeta or explosions of tulle. No low-cut back or front. But instead I gazed on a graceful satiny ivory dress that flowed like a river into a long and elegant train. An overlay of delicate lace and a sprinkling of seed pearls adorned the bodice. Just right and just beautiful. “Miss?” I raised my hand to one of the sales ladies strolling by.

  “Yes?” An older lady with a pencil stuck over her ears held out her arms to me. “How may I help you?”

  “This dress. It’s the one.” I pointed to the mannequin.

  Distress flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry. We were about to remove this one from our display. It was a gown on clearance, and someone has dropped coffee on it. Quite a lot in fact.” She gestured behind the mannequin.

  When I followed her pointy finger, I saw the sploshy-looking stain she’d referred to—oddly in the shape of a Tyrannosaurus rex. I suddenly envisioned the huffs of horror among the guests as I walked down the aisle with that prehistoric-looking blotch on my dress. “Can it be dry cleaned?”

  The woman laced her fingers together under her chin. “We can’t guarantee anything.” She winced. “Nasty stain. The coffee had cream in it.”