by Deany Ray
We were almost done when Eddy decided to butt in, smiling his slimy smile. “Mrs. Cooper, I know the shop you mentioned. I do love a good vegetable, also a good fruit. The kumquats are superior and…”
He didn’t get to finish. Marge stepped on the gas, causing some nearby pigeons to scatter in a panic. I looked back to see my mother wave, a confused look on her face.
Celeste held on to her scarf. “When I said let’s hurry and get out of here, I didn’t mean to floor it.”
“That’s the only way to do it,” Marge said.
“I’m with Marge on this one,” I said.
“I think your mom is fabulous.” Eddy grinned.
I rolled my eyes.
“Once your mom is gone, it would be good if we could park back in that same spot.” Celeste glanced back at me. “Since Eddy thinks something’s up inside that building, I say let’s keep our eyes on it.”
I turned to look behind me. “Okay, she’s getting in her car. Give her a few minutes, and we should be good to go.”
I watched my mother load her bag into the car and fish in her purse until she found her oversized sunglasses. To give her time to drive away, we drove further down the street then circled back around. I could see just ahead of us that the parking spot where we were was still empty. That was a lucky thing, since the spaces all around it were now filled. Marge sped up and passed a Volvo, startling us all and nearly sending me – would the horrors never cease? – into Eddy’s lap.
“Whoa,” he said. “This is quite a ride.”
Celeste put her hand to her chest. “Marge, what the heck are you doing?”
“What would we have done,” Marge asked, “if that Volvo got the space?”
Celeste was breathing hard. “One of these days, I swear, you’re gonna get us killed.”
“I got the space now, didn’t I?” Marge pulled in and slammed the brakes as the tires bumped hard against the curb. “Mission accomplished.”
We fell into a long silence as we watched the building. More people were on the streets since the workday drew to a close. No one looked suspicious; they just looked like exhausted people heading home to dinner or to get the kids from day care or grab a beer with friends. The trouble was, I guessed, that our culprit very likely looked pretty normal too.
Marge reached into her purse and pulled out a small bag of cookies. More food? This was crazy. She passed the bag to Celeste, who passed it on to Eddy, who handed it to me.
“I’m always prepared,” Marge said, “for emergencies and stakeouts. Never be without a gun or a little something sweet.”
I looked down at the box. They were vanilla sandwich cookies, a kind I really liked. But then I thought about my mother’s face as she’d peeked into the window and how disappointed she looked to see me eat unhealthy. I shook my head at Eddy, and he passed the box up front.
I stared back at the building and tried to think of anything but cookies. Nothing much to see. A woman stopped to adjust her scarf then headed on her way. She was carrying what looked to be a cake box. I guessed everyone in the world was having a snack but me.
Marge found a gossip magazine underneath her seat and entertained us all with stories about which movie stars had given birth in secret and which ones had fought with one another on the sets of their blockbuster films. While she talked, the rest of us kept our eyes on the building and the surrounding area. I was not quite sure what to look for, but I kept looking nonetheless.
Marge passed Celeste another cookie. I wondered if they were the good kind with the heavenly good creamy filling.
A man exited the building, and I watched him grab his keys from his pocket.
Eddy sat up straighter. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“I see a man,” I said. “So what?”
“It’s that guy from the doughnut shop, the one who was pretending to read his newspaper.”
Celeste looked up and Marge dropped her magazine. I squinted through my glasses and craned my neck forward. Oh, my goodness, he was right. I was impressed – and jealous. Note to Charlie: Stay alert.
“You sure that’s him? I didn’t get a good look at him back in the doughnut shop,” Celeste said.
“I’m positive,” Eddy said.
We kept our eyes on the guy, who got into a big car and drove off, keeping it under the speed limit.
“Follow him!” I yelled, just as Celeste was shouting, “Go!”
“I’m on it,” Marge squeaked, already backing out.
We were about to speed away when we were startled by another rapping on the window.
Flipping flambéed fruitcake. Was it too much to ask to do our job without all these interruptions? If it was my mother this time, at least she wouldn’t catch me with a cookie in my mouth. I turned to ask her what was up this time, but it wasn’t my mother I saw staring back at me.
It was someone else who was about to lecture me on what I was doing “wrong.”
Alex.
Chapter Twelve
I had no doubt he knew exactly what we were up to on Moraine Avenue. He didn’t look happy about it, not one little bit, but I had every right to sit and watch any building that I chose. It was a free country. I had a job to do, and I planned to carry on. That’s why I met his glare with my brightest smile.
“Alex, hi,” I said as I rolled down my window.
Marge turned off the ignition while Alex folded his arms and stared. He looked tired and irritated. Well, that was his problem and not mine. If he’d concentrate more on chasing bad guys and less on chasing us, he’d get his job done sooner and have more time to rest.
He cocked his head, annoyed, but I couldn’t help but notice how his muscles seemed to strain the fabric of his light blue shirt. The guy was looking good, but you just can’t win with love. Every decent guy, it seemed, came with one huge flaw. Take this one right outside my window: gorgeous eyes, a dreamy kisser…and the need to jump in when all I was trying to do was…well, to do my job.
He leaned in a little closer, and I watched as his anger turned to shock.
“Charlie.” He gasped and put his hand up to his left brow.
Shoot. So much for telling myself that hardly anyone would notice.
“What happened to your face?” he asked.
Sheesh, just the kind of thing a girl hopes a man will say.
Marge perked up at the memory. “You should have been there, Alex. Oh, my gosh. Kaboom!” She lifted both hands in the air to illustrate her point.
Alex looked at her, confused, and then turned to peer at me. “Your…eyebrows…went kaboom?”
Marge clasped her hands together. “You see, it was the corn…”
Celeste put a hand on Marge’s arm. “Marge, we don’t have time.”
Alex looked dumbfounded. “You lost your eyebrows eating corn?” He frowned, then shook his head. “I don’t even want to know.”
“It was an accident,” I mumbled.
I could see his lips quivering. “I think your middle name is Accident. It’s a good thing you’re so pretty. I don’t know a lot of girls who could pull off that look.”
I felt my cheeks getting hotter. Even with my eyebrows gone, Alex managed to make me blush.
“How can we help you, Alex?” Celeste asked in a firm voice. “We don’t have time for flirting. We have things we need to do.”
I thought of the protection-scheme dude getting further down the road. We’d never catch him now.
Alex seemed to notice Eddy for the first time and studied him with narrowed eyes. Then he turned back to me, his earlier sense of amusement having dissipated.
“What are you four up to?” he asked, giving me a look that seemed to say, And I want the truth.
“We had to do some shopping,” I said, giving my voice an edge that I hoped would make him drop the subject.
“There’s a wonderful vegetable shop just down the street from here,” Marge said happily.
Celeste chimed in to help. “Charlie’s mother raved about it. She’s on
a health-food kick.”
Alex leaned in further, and I knew exactly what he saw inside the car: wrappers from candy bars and hot dogs, the open box of cookies in the front seat. I saw a smile begin to form along the corners of his soft, full lips. “Yes, it looks like you’re real health nuts. Where exactly is this shop where they sell these vegetables?”
“That’s the shop. Right there!” Marge pointed at the store.
“Why do you care?” I asked. “We’re free to shop wherever.”
“I told them we had to come and browse around the store.” Eddy leaned forward in his seat. “I was craving a fresh salad with chickpeas, farro, kale, a splash of red wine vinegar, and perhaps a sprinkling of shallots.”
I went along with it and nodded, but in my head, I rolled my eyes. I bet the guy couldn’t choose a chickpea from a lineup on the grocery shelves.
“We need to get home and get our veggies in the fridge,” Marge said, turning the car back on. “Go check out the store before it closes. The avocados looked amazing.”
Alex frowned down at the cookies. “I don’t see avocados. I don’t see any kale.”
“They’re in the trunk,” I said.
Alex shot me a look that said he wasn’t buying it, but what could he do? He had no proof of what we were really up to on Moraine Avenue.
He shook his head and grinned. “Well, we could be in for trouble. This could be a deadly mix: vegetables and Charlie. I hear not long ago she had a run-in with some corn.”
“Will that be all?” I asked. “As we said, we need to go.” I self-consciously touched the area where my eyebrows used to be.
He glanced briefly at the building that we’d been staking out, then he looked at me. I didn’t see anger but concern, and something in me melted.
“Stay safe…while you’re grocery shopping.” He was addressing all of us, but kept his eyes locked on mine.
Dang, the man was hot.
“Toodle-oo, Alex,” Marge said.
He backed away and then he was gone.
Celeste sighed. “His timing is the worst.”
“And now we’ve lost the suspicious guy from the doughnut shop,” Marge said. “No need to try and chase him now.”
“I guess Alex knows what we know.” I leaned back in my seat. “He must have somehow found out that this building is worth watching.”
“I hate it when that happens,” Celeste said. “It makes it so much easier when the cops aren’t onto the same leads and messing with our game.”
“Yeah, he must know something’s up on Moraine Avenue,” Marge said. “Otherwise, he’d have no business here.”
Celeste shot a look at her cousin. “Unless he had a craving for some farro with a splash of red vinegar. Where did that come from, Eddy?”
Eddy smiled and smoothed his hair. “I might just be a gourmet cook along with my other …talents.” He had the nerve to look at me and wink.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Cool it with your big talk.”
“Actually, that salad you described sounded really good,” Marge said.
“Did I hear all those things come out of your mouth?” I asked. “Perhaps a sprinkling of shallots. I can’t believe you really said that. It sounded almost real.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be dissing on the shallots. They add a little flavor to a salad, not to mention crunch.”
I stared at him. Hmm. Maybe he did know his way around a kitchen.
“What I want to know,” Celeste interjected, “is where Alex came from and why we didn’t see him. I think we need to do some work on our observation skills.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t even notice my own mother till she was right beside the car.”
Maybe it was time to rethink my career. I stunk at surveillance, and I didn’t like to lie. It just didn’t feel right to lie to Alex and to lie to my mother.
Still, I liked the challenge of it all, solving a complex puzzle. Most of all, I liked the idea of fixing trouble where I found it. Celeste’s nephew was a good kid – a good kid who needed us.
“Let’s call it a day,” Celeste said. “Things are closing up here. I don’t think there’ll be much more to see today. I’ll give Uncle Moe a call and tell him he was right on the money.”
I glanced at the building; nearly every window had grown dark.
“I’ve tried to keep my eye trained on that building ever since Suspicious Guy took off in his car,” Marge said. “Even when Alex was here, giving us a hard time, I tried to make sure I watched the building. I thought maybe the guy had some companion who would leave right after him.”
“Any luck?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Let’s meet at the office at nine tomorrow morning.” Celeste reached for a cookie. “We’ll regroup and decide what the next steps are.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Count me in.” Eddy and I both spoke at the same time.
***
The next morning a blast of music almost shook my bed. I sat up straight and checked the clock. It was just a little after six. The noise was coming from outside, some stupid, sappy song I used to dance to as a teen. I wondered, not for the first time, why my mother’s classes were so early in the morning. It wasn’t like her octogenarian students had busy meetings stacked up and work deadlines to meet.
Warily, I made my way to the window. The leotarded oldsters were shaking their booties in a way that was…well, it was better not to look.
The music was louder by the window. Rock me underneath the apple tree and give me some sweet love. Shake it, sugar, shake it.
I hated the day already.
I pulled on some sweats and made my way downstairs, hoping it might be a little quieter in the kitchen. Man, I missed the days when the coffee maker filled the kitchen with the robust scent that always helped me wake up. I missed the days when the kitchen smelled like morning.
Dressed in a green leotard and yellow flowing skirt, my mother breezed in and opened up the fridge. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re up.”
“Well, yeah. It’s kind of hard to sleep.”
“I just ran in to get some water. Mrs. Kansky’s feeling faint.”
She filled a glass with water, then took a pitcher from the fridge and poured me a glass filled with…what? It was something gray and thick.
“It’s a breakfast smoothie!” she said proudly, calling out ingredients as she dashed out of the room.
I wondered if there was coffee in the cabinet and if my mother would be outside long enough for me to sneak a cup. I decided not to risk it.
Someone turned the music even louder. Your love is contagious, the singer wailed. Take me to paradise.
I wondered how my mother picked those songs.
I took my glass of whatever to the kitchen table, where my brother was camped out with his laptop. You knew the music had to be loud when it blasted Brad out of bed, but he didn’t look perturbed. I watched him with envy. My brother had it figured out. With his earplugs blocking out the music, he stared into his laptop.
Hmm. I never thought that I could learn something from my brother, but he’d mastered the art, it seemed, of surviving in our parents’ house. Not that I’d really tried that hard. I was still hoping to escape.
As I watched him, he took big gulps of the grayish horror, just like he was drinking chocolate milk. Could it be that it didn’t taste that bad? I stared into the mystery of the grayish sludge waiting in my glass, but I just couldn’t bring myself to try it. I felt headachy and tired. I needed sleep or coffee, which was just too bad. I wasn’t getting either one real soon.
Finally, I managed a tiny sip and winced. It was bitter, slightly sour. Brad looked up and his eyes remained fixated on my face. He was probably trying to identify what exactly it was that looked different than the yesterday-me. His gaze landed on the spot where my eyebrows used to be. I braced myself for what was about to come. He pulled a black permanent marker from his pocket, dropped it on the table and returned to whatever i
t was he was watching on his screen. To be honest, Brad was the only one who came up with a solution to my problem.
As I pushed the smoothie glass away from me, three women in garishly colored leotards flew into the kitchen and began to coo at my grayish mush like tiny wrinkled birds.
“So filled with vitamins! So creative! Isn’t your mother a genius?” One of them spoke in a gravelly voice as she bent close to study my drink. Her sour breath combined with the sight of the congealing mush about did me in.
My mom walked in, followed by more students. She pulled the pitcher from the fridge, prompting another round of squeals as she handed out a round of drinks.
“It has old-fashioned rolled oats and chia seeds and pitted dates,” she said. She spoke as if this was good news and not a warning.
One tiny woman took a sip and closed her eyes in satisfaction. “Manna from the gods!” she said. “Manna from the gods.”
Surely the gods can do better than drinking oats. I couldn’t believe the woman liked that stuff, but perhaps your taste buds got all dried out when you were over eighty.
The room was filled with high-pitched oohs and ahs as everybody tasted the manna from the gods. My mother pulled some chairs in from another room, and suddenly the table was filled with oldsters. The heavy, flowery perfume almost made me choke.
With all the chairs filling up the kitchen, my mother lifted herself onto the counter, a big smile planted on her face as she watched the crowd enjoy her date and oat creation.
Everyone was talking at once. There was no escape since the women on either side of me were pressed in too tightly to allow me to slip away unnoticed. How could Brad still be absorbed by whatever was on his laptop? I stared down into my gray mush and hoped they wouldn’t notice I was there.
Ha. There was no chance of that. My mother’s voice rose above the chatter. “Charlie, you remember Mrs. Eisler from Big C Drugs and Mr. Wernick from the bank.”
I nodded politely at our guests. Mr. Wernick had grown a beard and gone bald since the days when he used to hand me purple suckers when I’d go with Dad to the bank. My mother continued with the introductions, happily telling little stories about each one in the group. “Mrs. Kansky was the nurse when you took that little fall trying to ride a bike.” My mother frowned. “That didn’t go so well – when you tried to ride a bike.”
