Diced

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Diced Page 2

by Deany Ray


  I wondered if my face was red.

  Celeste gave Marge a gentle nudge. “Can’t you see that she’s embarrassed? She doesn’t want to read about a book about her…about her…well, you know, whatever.”

  “I’m just saying.” Marge shrugged. She did a little shoulder dance. “Charlie needs to learn to work it.”

  Good grief. I was always disappointing someone – either my mother or my friends – with my inability to ever get a date.

  After lunch, we stopped in at the office. We had some calls to make to sheriffs and police chiefs in surrounding towns. We had some bragging rights now that we’d bagged some big-time bad guys that the police here couldn’t catch. Oh, the police had had their eyes on them all right. But we were the only ones who could deliver on the evidence they had to have for a conviction.

  As we pulled onto the street, I was glad to see our new sign that was finally in place. CMC Services. The police had taken their time in getting it put up. To the outside world, we were technology consultants. Whatever that means. Guess it’s a fancy word for computer repair. We’d even borrowed old broken laptops to scatter around the place so we’d look legit if anyone stopped in. What if my mother came with cookies? (I hoped!) What if one of Marge’s friends spied her through the window? Marge seemed to make a new best friend anywhere she went – standing in line for coffee, filling up her car with gas.

  Celeste had called a friend in the industry who’d lent us some equipment that seemed to have something to do with our chosen field. No matter what the question, Celeste always knew a guy. Some of them, I have to say, seemed quite shady. How did she know these people? I didn’t have a clue. It was all a part of the mystery of Celeste.

  As I sat down to make my first call, the door suddenly flew open and a man walked in. We all stopped and stared. That had never happened.

  Shoot. He was carrying a laptop. Could it be a customer? Not for the actual business we were desperate to grow, but for some computer problem. Sorry. No can do! When it came to that kind of stuff, we were lost. I could barely work my phone.

  Of course, we’d known that this might happen, despite our very unobtrusive sign and the fact that our “repair shop” was never advertised. And so we had a plan – to be so very, very busy that any customers who showed would surely take their business to another shop. Because people need their laptops and they need them now. Computers hold your whole life. So it wouldn’t be a problem. At least, we didn’t think it would.

  The man looked upset. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this thing. The keyboard stopped responding. And it kept making this loud notice. Now the thing won’t turn on. What do you think that means?”

  We all exchanged glances.

  Finally, Marge picked up the laptop and pretended to give it a good look. She had been practicing her lines for this very kind of moment. “It could be the hard drive going bad. Or you might have a virus.” She opened up the case, pounded on some keys and frowned. “I really hate to say this, but it could be your motherboard. You just never know.”

  He let out a breath. “But why would that have happened? It’s really fairly new.”

  “Happens all the time,” Marge said. “Could be the software or the hardware, or it could be the malware. The AC adapter even. Or perhaps the AC/DC.”

  Good grief. She’d been sounding really good. But AC/DC was a band. Hopefully this computer dude was not into rock and roll.

  “Can you fix it?” he asked desperately. “It’s got my novel in there. Eighty thousand words. And all my contact information. And, well, just everything.”

  Wow. That was terrifying, to have something that important trapped inside a small machine that just decides one day that it’s not gonna turn back on.

  “Well,” Celeste chimed in, just like we rehearsed. “We’re super busy right now. We’re on quite a wait.”

  “Oh, no worries,” the man said. “I leave tomorrow on a big hike in Myles Standish Forest. And then we’ll do some camping. So I won’t be around to use this baby anyway.”

  Shoot. What do we do now?

  Celeste shot me a panicked look.

  The man ran his finger sadly across the laptop. “If this thing’s gonna flake out, I guess now’s the perfect time,” he said.

  Yes. Absolutely perfect.

  Celeste glanced down at her cellphone. “Oh! I just got a text. The parts have come in early for…that big new system they’ve just put in at…Springston Best Electric?” She glanced over at the man. “And I’m just so sorry. But I told them we’d get on the job as quickly as we could. Who knows when we’ll be finished?”

  He shrugged. “It’s cool. Like I said, I’ll be off the grid. How much will it cost?”

  It seems we couldn’t get out of that one. The girls and I exchanged looks one more time.

  “Seventy an hour,” I said. We’d researched prices too.

  “And this could take lots and lot of hours,” Marge said in her best cautionary voice.

  “Well, I’ll spend what I have to spend. I’ve spent years on that novel that’s in there. This is a valuable machine.”

  Great.

  He touched the laptop with a kind of reverence. “You ladies have to promise me you’ll take good care of this.”

  Marge studied it again. “Sir, you might consider a firm that specializes in…” She stared down at the name on the computer label. “In this model that you have here. And in motherboard stuff and keyboard things and…A-B-C-D issues.”

  The man waved away her suggestions. “It’s all good.”

  No sir! It is not. It’s all, really bad.

  Celeste tried to look official. “But you know that there are firms that specialize in…the type of repairs that…cause a laptop to stop responding.”

  “But I don’t know the people at those firms. And I trust you girls,” he said.

  “Well…thanks,” I finally managed. But why in the world would he trust us?

  “My girlfriend said to come here.” He smiled. “Said she’s known one of you for some time. From the karaoke girls’ nights out. At Ted’s in the square.”

  “That’s me!” Marge squeaked.

  Oh, this is getting better and better.

  “My girlfriend says your songs are always…entertaining.”

  Marge blushed. “Oh. Well, I’m very flattered. What is your girlfriend’s name? And does she hike as well?”

  My heart began to race. Did it really matter if his girlfriend liked to hike? We were absolutely screwed.

  “She’s not one for the outdoors,” he said. “And her name’s Katrina. She works sometimes at the music store down the street. She says she’s seen you through the window with a lot of laptops all around. She thought you must do repair work. And that’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh,” Marge squeaked. “Katrina is the best. I hope she likes the little dances I add in with my songs. I do that because…”

  Celeste put a hand on Marge’s shoulder. “Why don’t we take this nice man’s contact information, and then we have to get to work. We need to go and get those parts for the electric company.”

  “Oh, yes,” Marge said then wrote down his name and phone number and sent best wishes to Katrina.

  “See you in a week!” he said cheerfully as he headed out the door.

  “Sheesh,” Celeste said when he was gone. “What do we do now?”

  No one said a word.

  “We’ll have to fix it somehow.” I finally broke the silence. “We have to fix that man’s computer.”

  “Well, I really don’t know all that much about that kind of thing,” Marge said. “Except how to turn one on. And how to play that fun game with all the little candies. And I’m thinking that won’t help.”

  “And it’s not something you can Google and learn everything there is to know in a how-to video.” Celeste sat down to think. “Why weren’t we hairdressers? Or bakers. Anything but this.”

  “Since we don’t have a clue,” I said, “we should find someone w
ho does.” The only problem was, who could we ask? We were supposed to be the experts, not the ones who asked for help.

  The door swung open a second time and an angry-looking woman strode into the door. What was up today? Was her laptop broken too? If only our real business would draw in the customers like our fake computer shop did.

  This woman had a hard look, as if any minute a string of expletives would come flying from her mouth. She marched up to me and frowned. “I hear you girls are good detectives.”

  I couldn’t speak for half a minute. Business! This was great. But so much for staying undercover. How had she even found us? When I finally caught my breath, I began to speak. “Well…”

  But she didn’t let me finish. “I need you to snoop around for me. I need to know the truth. The truth about my husband.”

  Chapter Two

  “The truth about…?” I stammered.

  Marge stared at the stranger, wide-eyed. “But first, how did you know…”

  “That we were detectives?” Celeste finished Marge’s question.

  The woman nodded her head toward Marge. “I heard this one talking. This one likes to talk.”

  Celeste and I turned to face our friend, who looked back sheepishly – like a kid caught with all the candy.

  “So sorry, so sorry,” she squeaked.

  The woman continued to explain. “She was telling the hairdresser all about it, how the three of you took down some tough jokers. Like James Bond, but in cute shoes. I think that’s what she said. Sounded like a bunch of nonsense. But then she said you wrapped up two big cases all at once. That’s when my ears perked up.”

  Marge gazed down at the floor as Celeste fixed her with a hard look.

  “Not that I’m one to eavesdrop.” The stranger held up a hand as if to wave away the very thought. Other’s people’s troubles aren’t that interesting to me. I’ve got problems of my own; I don’t need their drama. But when a woman aims two fingers at the shampoo girl? And makes this kind of weird sound like she’s firing off three rounds? Well, you put your magazine down so you can hear what’s going on.”

  Celeste stared at Marge, appalled.

  “Well.” Marge spoke in the teeniest, tiniest voice that I had ever heard. “She asked me how my week had gone. And I got excited. And I just…forgot.”

  “We would gladly hear your story,” I said to the woman. “Would you like to take a seat?” I rolled my desk chair over. I wondered then if we should think about guest seating. We weren’t expecting guests. I’d thought that being undercover would cut back on the walk-ins. But then again…maybe not.

  Marge pulled up her chair and I perched on top of her desk.

  Celeste leaned against the wall. “Before you tell us about your husband, let’s make some introductions.” Having had a chance to catch her breath, she morphed into a professional, hoping to seal the deal with a prospective client. “My name is Celeste, and this is my partner Charlie.” She nodded toward me and smiled. Then she turned her gaze to Marge. “I believe you’ve met Annie Oakley here. She also goes by Marge.”

  “Deborah Bickford,” the woman said in a raspy voice. “And my problem’s name is Stanley. The sorriest excuse for a husband that ever walked the earth. I hope that you can help me.” She gave me a pleading look, and I got the feeling that her tears had long been all cried out. She just had that look: of holding lots of sorrows in the deep furrows of her brow. “I was stupid, stupid, stupid to ever say I do to a clown like that. But I was only nineteen. And by the time I realized that the guy was just a pompous jerk, he had knocked me up.”

  Celeste grabbed her hand. “The only thing worse than a bad man is a bad man that you’re stuck with, a bad man that shares your name. Sometimes, a woman has to just take out the trash. If you get my drift.”

  Deborah looked her in the eye. “Isn’t that the truth? I’ve been thinking the same thing. Our daughter’s grown and gone now. She’s off in California. And we were never really happy, can’t agree on anything.” She sighed. “He wants to buy a boat. A boat! How can we buy a boat? We don’t have the money for that kind of stuff.” She ran a hand nervously through her short dark hair. “And he complains about my flowerbeds. Now, can I just ask you this? Who in their right mind argues against flowers? Did a flower ever do a single thing to make his life any harder?”

  “No!” Now, Marge was angry too. “It most certainly did not!”

  Deborah leaned in toward her. “And now, I have my suspicions that he’s seeing someone else. Can you believe that?” Her eyes took on a steely look. “Isn’t that just crazy? Because the joke’s on her! This man is not a prize.”

  He did sound like a dud. But then again, this Deborah was not exactly the most pleasant person on earth. Was she like that before she met him? Or did Stanley turn her into a cold and angry woman? It was hard to say. All I knew was that this wasn’t the kind of case I had in mind when I quit my job and moved to Springston. I wanted to rid the town of danger, not to chase down every cheating spouse sneaking out to misbehave.

  Celeste cleared her throat. “So, how exactly can we help you?”

  “Well, if he’s really cheating, I’ll divorce him just as quick as he can holler at me when I set down his dinner plate. Is this all the measly supper that you’re gonna feed me? Who taught you how to cook? The man is never satisfied. And when the courts divide the assets, I want to make good and sure they have all the information about…his activities. I deserve whatever they will give me, after all the utter nonsense the man has put me through.”

  “But…” I was confused. “It doesn’t sound like there’s much money for you two to fight about.”

  “There’s a little bit of savings. In case of emergencies – and to retire one day. Not much of a nest egg, but we’ve managed to throw a little bit into savings now and then.” She sighed. “You see, here’s the thing. He’s been taking chunks of money out. He doesn’t think I know. He thinks I’m clueless about finances. But I look at the statements. Because it’s my money too.”

  “Absolutely,” Marge squeaked.

  “And he goes somewhere in the evenings. Claims he’s off on errands. Or to watch a game with friends.”

  “Does he have a lot of friends?” I asked.

  She paused to think about it. “To be honest, I’m not sure. We don’t talk much anymore. No more than we need to. But I feel sure he’s lying. I can always tell because he sweats so much when he’s hiding something from me. It’s been that way since high school – when I should have said no way when he asked me to the prom. But I had to have that new black dress with the silver sequins that my mom said she would buy me if I went to the dance.”

  Marge leaned forward in her chair. “Did it have spaghetti straps? What shoes did you wear?”

  “It had off-the-shoulder puffy sleeves. I had nice shoulders way back then. I liked to show them off. And I wore some real nice silver heels.” Deborah’s look turned angry. “What kind of questions are these? Who cares about the stupid shoes? It was my date who was the biggest heel. I just didn’t know it yet.” She paused and took a deep breath. “So. Will you take my case?”

  “Well, it’s not the usual thing we do,” Celeste said. “But we have some free time at the moment.”

  “I’ve saved some money of my own. I have my own account. My mother always said that’s a good thing for a woman. In case of emergency. Or in case of assholes.” She stopped to clear her throat. “All of that to say I can pay you for your trouble.”

  “Well, we need some info first,” Celeste said. “Marge, can you grab your pad?”

  Marge rifled through her flowered purse, finally pulling out a notebook and a small silver pen. “Okay,” she squeaked. “All set. Tell us more about your husband. Where does Stanley work?”

  “He used to own a store in town, King’s Electronics at the mall. But that went bust last year, which made things worse at home. The man was super stressed. That’s when I went to work – at the uniform factory. I’m sure you know the
one? Down past the new hospital, over that little hill. And with overtime and all, I don’t have time to chase him down to see what the man is up to. Plus, I don’t want him to catch me watching. I’m no good at undercover.”

  Neither were we, apparently. But I guessed she’d forgotten that.

  “Where does Stanley work now?” I asked her.

  “At the convenience store on Holberton. You probably know it as the place with the guy dressed like a hot dog standing out in front. I don’t understand their thinking. Like someone in their right mind might drive by and say, Hey, I’m gonna pull in here and stop – because a man dressed like a giant hot dog is waving like a fool.” She frowned. “That would make me speed right up.”

  Sometimes I thought my job was bad. I’d been farted on by a panda that I was trying to rescue. And there’d been more than one occasion when I thought someone might kill me. But at least I’d never had to dress up like somebody’s dinner.

  “Is Stanley…” I began.

  “Oh, no. He’s never worn the costume. Although that would serve him right. Then there’d be no way the fool could find another woman. I’m sure it kills the romance once you’ve seen a man dressed up like a hot dog that’s on special for a dollar. But, no. Stanley’s just a clerk.”

  Celeste pulled up her office chair and took a seat. “What hours does he work?”

  “He works till seven most nights. He’s the one that closes up. And then on Fridays and on Saturdays, they’re open until nine. And he stays until they close. Somehow I just know that man is up to something.” She fixed each of us with a hard look.

  Hey lady, don’t glare at me. I don’t even know this Stanley.

  I looked down at my watch. It was just past two, which meant we had quite a while before Stanley would be off to…wherever Stanley went. “Do you expect him home for dinner?” I asked our newest client.

  She responded with a bitter laugh. “Supposedly, he’s meeting up with some guys over drinks. That’s tonight’s excuse. I’m hoping you can call tonight and let me know what’s up.”

 

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