Diced

by Deany Ray

  Tonight?

  “I don’t want to fool around,” she said, as if she could read my mind. “I need answers. Quick.”

  She wouldn’t be an easy one to please.

  “We’ll work as quickly as we can,” Celeste promised her. “It’s all dependent on a lot of things. Like where he decides to go and when.”

  “And how easy it is to follow him.” Marge wrote something down. “We don’t want to blow our cover.” As if there was no way she’d slip up and do a thing like that.

  “I know this might not be your biggest case,” Deborah said. “But I need to have it solved. Because if he’s up to no good, then I deserve the money. It wouldn’t be a lot, just enough to buy myself a little treat every now and then.”

  This woman didn’t look like she’d ever met a treat. But I’d give her a break. How very sad her life must be. It made my endless string of dateless nights seem…well, luxurious.

  While I studied her, Deborah reached into her large black purse and pulled out a photograph. She handed it to me. “That’s the fool you’re looking for. He’ll have on that green vest. He wears it all the time.”

  I straightened my glasses and gazed down at the photo. A man about Deborah’s age was sitting at a table with a can of beer. He was looking up as if surprised by the camera’s flash.

  Celeste stood up and signaled that the meeting was now over. “We’ll stake out the scene today. We charge forty-five an hour. Does that work for you?”

  Actually, we charged much more. Or at least we had charged more for our first case. And Celeste had ways to make sure that Bert would pay a nice fee when new cases started rolling in – which I hoped would happen any day.

  I knew what Celeste was thinking now. If we named too high a figure, then we might lose this job. We had to have the job.

  Marge collected a deposit from our client and took down her contact information.

  “I’ve thought this out,” the client said. “I want you to call my cell, but we have to be careful. Because sometimes I’ll catch him listening when I’m on the phone. Like I’m the one with things to hide. I hate that about a person, when they’re always so suspicious.”

  Like when they hire three private eyes to see what their husband’s doing?

  She continued with her plan. “So if I don’t pick up, that means that he’s around. If that happens, send a text, and I’ll call you back once I can get to somewhere safe. Also, we have to use a code text in case he glances at my phone.”

  I saw Marge’s eyes grow wide. There were certain kind of words I knew she absolutely loved, and Deborah had just hit her with a whole string of them: stakeout, code and somewhere safe.

  “Okay, what’s the code?” Marge asked, leaning forward in her seat.

  “Well, I’ve thought of two for now,” Deborah said. “Meet Me in the Moonlight for a Millionaire Romance. And also, lima beans.”

  Marge looked at her, confused. “The second one is cute, I guess. I do love lima beans. And the first one sounds exciting. But, I have to say, that might get Stanley all riled up. It sounds like things are bad enough without making him think you’re out under some full moon…” Her voice trailed away. Whatever she was thinking made her grin, then blush. “Is there a rich dude, really? Because if there is, I’m thinking there’s a better way out of your situation. Why not drop Stanley for the millionaire? If Stanley’s such a loser?”

  Deborah sighed. “The rich dude is in a book. That’s the easiest place to find the good ones, am I right? In the shelves at the library? Stanley knows that every month I get together with the book-club girls.” For the first time that afternoon, I saw the woman smile. “We like to read romance. It would seem a normal thing for one of the girls to text me with the name of next month’s book. And the hostess assigns each of us a dish to bring. They like my lima beans.”

  Marge nodded. “Very, very clever. Is that book any good? Meet Me in the Moonlight?”

  Deborah’s scowl returned. “I didn’t say it was a real book. It’s just something I made up.”

  Marge looked disappointed. “I was gonna check it out.”

  “Well, that would be kind of hard.” The client buttoned up her coat and headed toward the door. “Call me, then. Or text.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Celeste held up a hand, signaling for her to pause. “We’d appreciate it if you kept it confidential – that we’re in the business of undercover work.”

  “Understood,” Deborah said. “I won’t say a word. But you best have that conversation with your partner over there.” She nodded her head toward Marge.

  “We will,” I said. “Very nice to meet you. And we’ll be in touch.”

  After she had left, Celeste turned to Marge. “Marge, what in the world? You have to be more careful. If people know what it is we’re up to, then we can’t do our jobs.”

  Marge looked down on the floor. “I am so, so sorry. Lesson learned. I promise!” Her gaze fell upon the laptop that awaited our “repairs.”

  “I guess if I had to open up my big mouth and let the cat out of the bag, it should have been at karaoke,” Marge said. “If Katrina knew the truth about my real profession, then we wouldn’t have that problem.” She nodded toward the computer with the novel locked inside.

  “Yeah.” I frowned at the machine. “We’ve got to figure out how to whip that thing into shape.” Mystery number two: what was wrong with the computer and how the heck to fix it?

  “Okay, let’s deal with Stanley first,” Celeste said. “At least we have a case.” She glanced at her cell to check the time. “We’ve got a while before he gets off. But I say we head on over there, see who comes in and out, and look for anyone suspicious.”

  “Works for me,” I said. “And we don’t know for sure that he’ll really stay until seven. That’s just what he told his wife.”

  “Oooh,” Marge said, impressed. “That’s really, really good.”

  Celeste opened the top drawer of our small filing cabinet. “We need to take something with us. Just in case we get asked why we’ve been sitting there so long in the parking lot. Or if someone’s catching us staking out the convenience store.” She rifled through some files and plucked a folder from the drawer. “Okay, this is perfect. Girls, we’re selling real estate.” She held up some brightly colored brochures with brick houses and plush lawns. “And we’re waiting on some clients calls. About some nearby houses. So we thought it would be easier if we parked close by.”

  Marge thought about that for a while. “First let’s drive around the area. And make sure some houses are for sale. The market’s hot near there, I heard. People like to live on the west side. Once a house goes on the market, it gets sold quick.”

  “Good point,” Celeste said. She grabbed another folder. “If you girls prefer, we can sell On the Town Cosmetics. I think they’re selling and they’re in that area.”

  “Oooh,” Marge said. “I love On the Town.”

  “That means we’re rip-off artists,” I said as I grabbed my coat and purse. The products, I supposed, were good, but they were overpriced. One of the secretaries sold the stuff at the police station in Boston. She was always telling me I needed to try a pinker shade of blush and that I should wear more lipstick. But if I did decide to do that, I’d buy it at the drug store where a tube of lipstick didn’t sell for $18.99.

  ***

  Five minutes later, I was being jostled in the back seat while Marge sped around the corner.

  “I’m hungry. Who’s hungry?” she asked. “Jack’s is on the way.”

  “We just got back from there,” I said.

  “But that woman made me hungry when she said lima beans. And we might be there a while, waiting for this Stanley to make some kind of move.”

  “She’s got a point,” Celeste said. “We can get sandwiches to go. The food offerings at Stanley’s store might not be to our taste.”

  I shrugged. “I hear the hot dogs are real cheap.”

  “I just want a smoke.” C
eleste lit a cigarette and held it out the window.

  I thought I might order some of the sugar cookies that were so good at Jack’s. They weren’t actually on the menu, but came free with any kid’s meal. Still, my dad had let them know to give me all I wanted whenever I came by.

  So, for the second time that day, Marge pulled into Jack’s. The parking lot was fairly full despite the fact that it was too early to eat dinner and too late for lunch. The retirees liked to stop in at this time of day to have some pie and coffee. Church committees, PTA groups – the real movers and shakers of the town – would rather meet at Jack’s than in some dusty, over air-conditioned room at their church or school.

  We walked in and placed our orders. We had not been waiting long when I felt a strange sensation, something tickling at my neck. Ewww. Was that a bug? I jumped, then turned to see my father, who never could remember that I had long outgrown the tickle-monster game. I yelped just loud enough for the diners closest to the counter to turn their heads and stare.

  “Whoa, Dad, will you cut it out? You’ll scare off the customers.”

  “Ah, they know ol’ Jack is crazy. That’s just one of the million reasons that they love the place.” He turned to a group of women at the table next to us. “This is my daughter, Charlotte Cooper, with her cohorts. They’re computer fix-it girls. If your machine gives you any trouble, you take that thing to Charlie and my girl will fix you right up.”

  Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot.

  “Do you have a card?” One of the women frowned as she put down her coffee cup. “My screen keeps going blank.”

  Absolutely perfect.

  “We’re having some new ones printed up,” Marge chirped happily. “But we’ll leave some cards with Jack as soon as we get them in.”

  Hmm. She could have left out that last part. My dad would be all over that. He loved to brag about his baby girl. He didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t really done…much of anything.

  “These other two, they used to work right here for me,” my father told the woman. “And I had no idea I had computer gurus serving up the soup.” A new thought made him grin. “Oh, hey, I got a good one.” He winked at the customer. “Here we go. Knock knock.”

  Great. You knew the food here had to be the best. Because customers kept coming in despite my father’s jokes.

  As always, Marge thought that they were funny. “Let me answer! Let me answer! Okay, Jack, who’s there?”

  “Dwayne!” He always laughed before the punch line.

  “Dwayne who?” Marge asked gleefully.

  “Dwayne the tub. I’m drowning!” He flailed his arms up in the air.

  Marge clasped her hands with joy.

  The nearby customers turned to stare again, smiling at the scene.

  “Well then,” my father said, “what can we get you girls?”

  Celeste smiled. “We’ve already placed our order. They’re working on it now.”

  Dad stepped into the kitchen to see how our food was coming. I saw a familiar face peeking from the window where the cooks set out the plates. It was a shy, softly rounded face with large and hopeful eyes.

  Hmm. Did Marge still think my father’s fry cook was just ‘the sweetest thing’? The status of the budding romance seemed to change from day to day.

  “Someone’s watching you!” I said in a teasing voice.

  “Well,” she said primly, “I will have to be very careful not to look that way.”

  “Playing hard to get?” I asked.

  “Oh, hon,” she whispered to me, “it’s absolutely over. Big mistake right there. That man can go from It’s nice to meet you to Let’s pick out a ring in thirty seconds flat.”

  “He proposed? Already?” Celeste grabbed her arm and smiled. “Marge, you vixen, you.”

  Marge frowned. “Well, no. Not exactly. But he was moving way too fast.” She looked around, then whispered, “He asked me if I wanted children! And if I’d like to meet his mother. No! I don’t want to meet your mother. I want to dance with other guys! I want to kiss one guy on Tuesday at the movies, and on Saturday I want to beat another one at bowling. I want to play the field. Is he looking? Is he looking?” She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would keep him from seeing her and not the other way around.

  “It’s okay.” I touched her arm. “He’s nowhere to be seen.”

  “Good,” she said. “I told him it was over. But I did so hate to hurt him. I hope he’s not too sad.”

  Well, I thought, that one was over quickly, but the girl knows what she wants. I liked that about Celeste and Marge. If there was something that they wanted – a man, perhaps, a new career – they just went out and got it; they found a way to make it work.

  Celeste patted down the pockets of her sweater. “This thing today could take a while. I need to make sure I’m all stocked up on smokes.”

  “Well,” I said. “That shouldn’t be a problem. At a convenience store.”

  “Guess you’re right. But do we want to go in right away?” she asked. “Or just watch and wait at first? And not draw attention to ourselves?”

  “Good question,” Marge chimed in. “Hey, I brought my binoculars. And a tape recorder.” Her voice got louder and rose to a squeak when she got excited.

  “Quiet, Marge! Remember?” Celeste frowned at her.

  “Oh, yeah. Right. I got it,” Marge said sheepishly.

  I hadn’t brought a thing. I really didn’t have a clue what it was that we might need. The cops I knew back in Boston said that working on stakeout jobs could be brutally boring. The main thing I remember was, they drank a lot of coffee.

  So…I was bringing cookies. And I’d ordered a sandwich too in case we were still being super spies when it came time for dinner. Because, after all, who knew? We might end up following this Stanley guy to stakeout number two. Next time I’d bring a book. For now, I guessed my cell would have to do. A couple of word games were loaded on my phone. And another one with a little mouse you had to move through a maze of blocks before the clock ran out.

  Marge cut into my musings with a round of giggles. “Hey, Charlie,” she said happily, “a very handsome cop just walked into the place.”

  A warmth spread across my chest. Alex. Alex with the sexy smile and the arms that felt so strong when he pulled me out of danger. Did I mention he was always there when I was at my clumsiest? Alex who teased me with a date and then never followed up. My heart sunk at the memory. Who needed that guy anyway?

  It was no big deal, I told myself, to run into Alex Spencer. But why had I worn this old white shirt? Was that a chocolate stain? And I wished I hadn’t pulled my hair back quite so tightly.

  Stop it, Charlie. It didn’t matter. If the man could not be bothered to just pick up the phone, that was absolutely fine. Because I was busy too! Why, I barely even noticed that he’d walked into the room.

  I turned to Marge and changed the subject. “When is the Sweet Pea Festival? And did you bring a sweater?” If he didn’t want our “date” to happen, well, that was cool with me. I’d forgotten it already.

  “Hello, you.” The familiar deep and playful voice was coming from behind me.

  “Alex,” I said, turning around slowly. “I didn’t know that you were here.”

  His hair caught the light from a nearby window, and he had on a crisp blue shirt that exactly matched his eyes. There was a soft look in his eyes as he grinned at me. Why were the gorgeous ones always the biggest flirts? That kind of wasn’t fair.

  My smile was small, polite, before I glanced over toward the kitchen. I had no time to talk. We had to get our order and head on out of there. Big case in the works. If I did have time to stop and look at Alex, I’d see how soft his cheeks were and imagine how it might feel to touch the stubble on his chin. But just never mind. Because. I. Did. Not. Care.

  He caught my eye and winked. “What do we have here? This looks like big-time trouble multiplied by three.”

  Then he touched my arm, and I tried so hard not to melt r
ight then and there.

  Chapter Three

  “No trouble,” Marge said, taking out her compact mirror to see how her lipstick looked.

  “Just three girls at a counter waiting for a bite to eat. Nothing to see here.” Celeste adjusted the navy scarf that covered most of her signature bright hair. Flaming red hair is not good at all when you’re working undercover.

  Marge put on a bit more lipstick, then peeked around the mirror to see if a certain fry cook might be watching from the kitchen.

  Ignoring the other two, Alex kept his eyes on me, a small smile on his face. Did he like me after all? Of course not, I decided. He was probably just afraid we were messing with some case he wanted to solve all by himself. Men don’t like to be shown up. And we’d proven we were good. In our own special way.

  A waitress appeared to put our orders on the counter. Celeste took out her card to pay.

  “Oh, I think you’re up to something.” Alex reached into my paper bag and plucked out a cookie. “You owe me food, remember? This can be a small down payment.”

  I pretended to think about it. “Oh. I’d forgotten that whole thing.” I closed the bag and moved it further from his reach. The cookies at Jack’s were too good to give away for free to Alex.

  He turned to Celeste and Marge. “Whatever it is that you’re up to, just be careful.” He lightly touched my hair, which should have made me mad. Who had given him permission? But – jumping jelly doughnuts – the man was looking fine. I wished his hand would stay right there.

  He gave me a wink. “Now, where are you fine ladies really heading off to this afternoon?”

  Did he somehow already know we had a new case in the works? Was he that good?

  Celeste picked up the bag of food and sighed. “No need for you to worry over the three of us. You just run along. Don’t you have some crime to fight? We’re just helping a wife and mother with some family concerns.”

  I could tell that she was starting to get angry. Her bad feelings about Bert seemed to extend to all the cops in Springston.