by Ami Diane
“Latter. I said latter.”
“Yeah, ladder.”
Ella closed her eyes a moment, mumbled under her breath, then stared at Flo. “Why would we need a ladder?”
The woman’s shoulders rose and nearly brushed her earrings. “Might come in handy.”
“I think it’ll work,” Wink said. “Not the ladder, but sneaking in and unlocking a back window for later entry.”
Flo’s tone came out like a pouting toddler. “I guess.”
“Did you have a better plan?” Wink turned to her friend.
“‘Course I did.”
Ella leaned back, crossing her arms. “This I got to hear. Out with it.”
Flo stuck her nose in the air, causing her bouffant to bobble. She surprised Ella by actually answering. “I think we should go in through the roof. Using a ladder.”
“The roof?” Ella and Wink said at the same time, their voices carrying across the vintage railcar. The lone customer stirred from what Ella guessed was a food coma.
“The roof?” Ella repeated, lowering her voice several decibels. “How?”
Flo flipped to a second paper in the schematics, the one for the second floor, and pointed at a section near the center. “This is a skylight with a functioning window. We climb down—”
“How?” Wink asked.
“Ropes and stuff. Don’t interrupt.” Flo gathered her thoughts. “Right, so we scale down—”
“Tied off to…?” Ella asked.
“A pipe. An air vent. Who knows. Now quit interrupting.”
Ella shot Wink a sideways look.
“Anyway, we go in through the roof, land on the second floor, sneak downstairs, see the files, then leave through the front door.” Flo let out a breath, seemingly pleased with herself as she awaited the others’ approval.
For her part, Wink seemed at a loss for words.
Ella cleared her throat, thrusting her empty plate away so she could rest her arms on the table. “Let’s call your Mission Impossible idea, ‘Plan B.’ Actually, let’s call it the ‘Never-going-to-happen’ plan.”
“Mission Impossible?” Wink said. “I like that. That’s what we’ll call this mission.”
“No, that’s not—forget it.”
Flo glared at both of them behind her glasses. “What’s wrong with my idea?”
Wink placed a warning hand on Ella’s arm and spoke first. “Nothing. It needs finessing is all. But Ella’s plan is simpler and requires less… hanging from the ceiling—not that I don’t love a little spelunking.” She leaned back. “But yours is a decent backup plan.” At this, she shot Ella a look to not object. “I say bring the climbing gear just in case and pray we don’t need to use it.”
“So,” Ella said, “we’re really doing this?”
Wink nodded. “Tomorrow, we go into the office. Flo and I will distract Miss Johnson while you unlock a window.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to get the files then?”
“We’re not exactly sure where they are and who knows how long it’d take to find them.”
“Right. Good call.”
Flo whined, “Why can’t Ella help you, and I sneak into the filing room and unlock the window?”
“Because you’re as graceful as a three-legged drunkard dancing the jitterbug,” Ella said.
“And because,” Wink chimed in, “you once broke both legs going up a flight of stairs.”
Ella snorted then promptly focused on her last sip of coffee when she caught Flo’s glare.
After that, they made plans to meet up the next day for the first part of the mission—which Ella was still refusing to dub Mission Impossible. Then, they’d return later Wednesday night, under the cover of the fog and darkness to sneak into the building.
The plan set and some of the finer details involving equipment left to Flo’s discretion—to Ella’s horror—they filed out of the booth. Ella gathered their empty plates while Wink tended to the snoozing customer at the end of the counter. When Ella returned from the kitchen, Flo was still in the diner.
“Oh, El?” Wink said. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to have you go with Flo and do some door-to-door canvassing. I want to get a bead on my numbers and if the people are viewing me as a suspect. I don’t think they’d be forthcoming with that information if I were there.
“Horatio should be back soon, and I think the two of us could handle things from here until the end of your shift.”
Ella looked from the empty diner to Flo, who’s hair brushed the ceiling two feet above her scalp.
“Yeah,” Flo mumbled, “the feeling’s mutual, Poodle Head.”
Biting her tongue, Ella undid her apron then slipped on her down coat before dragging her feet behind Flo through the front door. Outside, the fog swirled in the woman’s wake. Two steps later, they began marching in opposite directions.
“Where you going?” Flo grunted.
Ella pointed at the inn. “To change. I’m not wearing this to go campaigning.” She swept a hand over the stained waitress uniform peeking out under her jacket.
“Why not? You look better than normal, and without that painted face you usually wear, we might not scare off any kids today.”
Ella glowered. She hadn’t had time to put on makeup today. “You’re one to talk. You look like a clown who spackled her eyeshadow on in the dark.”
Despite her protesting though, Ella acquiesced, figuring it best not to waste any more daylight. She scuffed her shoes over the sidewalk and through the hardened snow as she followed Flo down Main Street.
For the next few minutes, they walked in companionable silence, with the exception of Flo’s wheezing. The fog swirled around them, obscuring the world. Lamp posts emerged like ghosts, and cold air nipped at Ella’s nose.
Soon, they turned west, away from the diner, down J Street where businesses gave way to residential homes. Ella felt the need to speak in soft tones, whether in deference to the ethereal atmosphere or to match the subdued stillness, she wasn’t sure.
“So, what’d you do with them?”
Flo grunted beside her. “With what?”
“Your guns. Your grenades. Your freaking cannon. How did you move it all so fast?” She doubted Flo would actually tell her where she’d relocated the weapons to as Wink hadn’t even known the first location.
“I hired some movers.”
Ella’s eyes widened. “You let some random people know the location of your new bunker?”
Flo’s lips quivered with a smile, the thick lipstick cracking. “‘Course not. The other day was too close of a call. What if Chapman had found my loot? I’d be left with nothing ‘cept a few spare weapons I have hidden around the inn.”
“Wait, what?”
“I learned my lesson,” Flo continued, ignoring her. “I divided my babies up and hid them all over town in smaller stashes. Now, if Chapman stumbles onto one of ‘em, he can’t confiscate all of it in one go.”
With nothing to say, Ella shook her head and turned up a walkway to the first home. It was a white Minimal Traditional style house, simple and Colonial, with blue shutters.
After she knocked, the door opened, and a man who very well could’ve been over a hundred by her estimation slammed the door the moment Flo asked him if he would be voting in the coming election.
Ella breathed in deeply, the oak door two inches from the tip of her nose. “You know what I love about this town?” She turned around. “How friendly everyone is. They’re just so welcoming.”
House after house, they knocked. Half of the people were either at work or were home but didn’t answer the door. The other half welcomed them inside where Ella and Flo warmed their frozen hands and could get a political temperature of the voters.
It wasn’t looking good for Wink, nor for any of the other candidates. Most harbored suspicions that someone in the running had killed Charles.
Occasionally after they knocked on a door, they received an “I ain’t buying nothing” before they co
uld even open their mouths. And only once did someone answer the door in long johns and a shotgun. After Ella had stopped Flo from whipping her handgun out of her purse, they ran.
They circled the block, finding themselves back on Main Street. Ella waited with her hands on her hips until a staggering Flo emerged from the mist, huffing and sputtering like one of Lou’s used cars.
“I think we lost him.” Flo used a nearby tree as support.
“No! Here he comes!” Ella jumped and pointed at nothing.
Flo spun, slipping on the wet grass, and fell to her haunches. Because she thought they were being chased, she army crawled over the ground, slipping and sliding.
Ella doubled over in peals of laughter. “Oh, man. Your face.”
On the damp lawn, Flo’s elbows dug divots into the ground, creating a muddy mess. She stopped. Slowly, she craned her head around to stare at the empty fog.
“You… you…” A fire burned in her eyes as she rolled and sat up.
Ella swiped tears away, still shaking with laughter as she offered a hand and pulled her friend up.
“I hate you.”
“I know.” Ella grinned.
“I’ll get you back for this.”
Ella felt her smile falter. Whatever Flo did in retaliation, she was sure it would be bad, but the prank had been worth any future retribution.
After drying her face some more, Ella asked, “Should we circle to K Street?”
“No. Let’s go to the bar.”
“Don’t you have a full-service bar in that suitcase you call a purse?”
“I don’t wanna go to the bar for a drink, dummy. Although, now that you say it, I could use one.”
“Ah, you want to poll the people in there.” Ella glanced at her watch. “Won’t it be dead at 4:00 in the afternoon?”
“Probably, but it’ll be easy pickings. And we won’t have to do more walking.”
“We literally circled two blocks.”
“But there was that bit where we ran. Besides, who says we can’t stay a while in the Half Penny until more people show up?” Flo didn’t bother waiting for a response. Turning, she shuffled across the street, her backside showing off a large, damp grass stain.
Ella bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing again, a tinge of guilt bubbling up.
“Worth it,” she whispered to herself as she ran after Flo, thinking this probably wasn’t what Wink had had in mind when she sent them to canvass the neighborhood.
Chapter 13
THE MOMENT ELLA stepped into the Half Penny, the pungent odor of alcohol and stale beer and misery punched her in the face.
“Order me a vodka, will you? I need to use the ladies room.” Flo wove around several empty tables and ducked through a dark doorway.
Ella considered not ordering the drink, figuring she was being an enabler at this point. However, when she recalled Will’s comment about how they had once tried an intervention on Flo, resulting in her setting the inn’s kitchen on fire, Ella strode to the bar.
Lucky stood behind a counter of deep mahogany covered in crumbs and stains, wiping down glasses. He eyed her beneath russet-colored brows.
Without preamble, he asked, “What can I get you?”
Judging by his formal tone, apparently, their conversation at the potluck was still fresh on his mind.
“Vodka. On the rocks.” Might as well try to get some water into the woman’s shriveled gullet.
“And for you? Rum and Coke?”
“Just water, thanks.”
The place was dead, which Ella found encouraging considering the time of day. A lone patron sat nearby, perched on a stool, nursing something amber colored. Whiskey, she guessed.
She sidled up to him, made small talk for a minute, then asked him what he thought about Wink running for mayor.
He nodded, needling her with watery eyes. “She’s alright, I suppose. Better than that Wilson guy.”
“He’s dead.”
The man took a long drought from his drink. “Even better.”
“Yeah, well…” Ella searched for more to say but came up dry. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the least crass or illogical campaign button Flo had given her. She laid it beside the man’s drink. “Vote for Wink.”
Lucky deposited her and Flo’s drinks before lumbering away. Clutching the glasses, she was eager to settle into a quiet spot away from Lucky’s glare and the smell emanating from the other man, so she promptly made her way to the back of the dingy room where Flo had taken up residence at a small table.
Sitting across from her, Ella said, “Flo, this is ridiculous. No one’s here. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want people coming in early on a Tuesday—why is he open so early, by the way?”
“For dinner. Don’t worry. People will start coming in.” Flo’s veiny hand reached for the glass of vodka.
Ella bit her lip. “Flo? Have you ever thought about cutting back on your alcohol consumption?” Her hands flew up in defense at the withering look she got. “I’m not saying stop altogether. Just, you know, cut back so your liver doesn’t look like a raisin.”
The ice cubes in Flo’s drink clinked together. It was a long while before she responded. “I don’t drink as much as people think. Maybe you should pay closer attention before judging others.”
Ella was taken slightly aback by the acerbic remark. It was her fault for prying, she supposed. “I pay attention.”
“Do you? That man is head over heels for you, but you do nothing about it.”
“Lucky? I don’t even think he likes me.” Ella studied the scarred wainscoting on the dark wall, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke from the wood and paint. She knew who Flo meant. Her voice came out softer, barely louder than a whisper. “What if I leave someday?”
“Then you figure it out if the day ever comes: stay together, leave together or go your separate ways. It’s part of the dance. But you gotta do something. Fish or cut bait as they say.”
Ella considered the rare, wise words. Maybe her friend was letting down her guard, revealing a chink in her armor and something deeper beneath. When she thought about it, the two of them weren’t dissimilar. They both had their shields; Ella used humor while Flo lashed her tongue or drank.
“You’re right.”
Flo nodded, satisfied. She sipped her drink. “I was in love once.”
Ella’s hand froze, her glass touching her lips. The woman had been married many times over, but for Flo to have been in love only once made Ella’s heart hurt a little.
“I mean, truly in love.” Flo set down her glass, warming to the topic. “Not that sappy stuff that fizzles out in a couple of years. The kind where you lose your breath every time you see ‘em. The kind where you know you’d rather be buried in the ground than live without ‘em.”
“What happened?”
Flo’s stare broke from a distant point. She ran a finger down her sweating glass, tracing a drop of condensation. “Nothing. It was so long ago.”
Ella tilted her head, studying the broken lines around Flo’s eyes. “In your early twenties?”
Flo’s head shot up sharply. “How’d you know?”
“You were in love with Donald.”
Her statement came out soft, absent of any accusation. The air turned thick, and Flo didn’t bother denying her guess.
Ella let out a heavy breath. “Does Wink know?”
Across from her, Flo’s eyes filled with an emotion Ella had never seen in them: pain.
“No. She never found out. It was before the two of them started going steady. The three of us grew up together, runnin’ down rivers of sidewalks, climbin’ trees, and fishin’ the lake. Then one day, I looked over and saw one of my best friends as something more.
“The problem was he was my moon, but Wink put the stars in his eyes. So, when she asked me what I thought about him courting her…”
“You supported it.”
Flo nodded. A single tear escaped and traced down her cheek, like the condensat
ion on her glass. “It ate at me for years. Every time I saw them together, a piece of my heart chipped away.”
“And you pushed them away.” Ella reached out to put a comforting hand on Flo’s hand, but the woman withdrew hers into her lap.
“It was the only way I could deal with the pain. But I learned something.” She leveled a piercing gaze at Ella behind her thick glasses. “Something you’ll have to learn, too. There’s a time to fight for who you want and a time to let go, release ‘em so they can fulfill someone else’s dream.”
Ella’s throat felt thick when she swallowed. Blinking rapidly, she drank from her water, trying to put out the fire.
Let go. Could she let go of Will? Could she let go of the dream to one day return home?
Their talk was interrupted when the front door opened. Ella winced against the light pouring in. The fading gray day outside was like a burning sun compared to the atmosphere inside.
Lou, still wearing his grease-stained coveralls strolled inside. He dropped into a booth near the back, sucking in his generous midsection as he did.
Ella shook off the funk that had descended on her like a cloud. “I’m going to go talk to Lou.” Her chair scraped across the floor as she stood. “Flo? I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And thank you for your advice.”
“Don’t get used to it, kid.”
“I won’t. It’s very disorienting having you give guidance.” She winked, earning a raspy chuckle from Flo.
Ella strode over to the mechanic and sat across from him before he could protest.
“Lou.”
“Elsa.”
“Ella. Cheddar and crackers, Lou. We’ve talked several times. The least you could do is remember my name. That is if you still can.” She scrutinized him, considering the possibility that the man might be short several brain cells, whether by his own doing or not. If that were the case, she would feel lousy for having made fun of him.
Lucky brought over a drink. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard Lou order. Just one of the many perks of being a regular, she figured.
“Not that I don’t mind the company of a pretty lady such as yourself—”
“Ew.”
