by Marja McGraw
Bubba ran to the sliding glass doors, looked out and turned to run back up the stairs, leaving us to our own devices. Whatever he’d seen was something he didn’t want to deal with, now or ever.
Pete ran to the door. “You’re not going to believe this.”
I stood behind him and looked around him, sucking in my breath. I saw one of my worst nightmares coming true. A herd of tarantulas was invading the yard, and Stanley was frozen to the spot, his mouth open in terror. He held his arms in the air and I saw his hands shaking. I couldn’t blame him. There were hundreds of tarantulas outside. Crawling, walking, moving – coming our way.
Pete peeled my hand off his arm. “Stan, get in the house and be fast about it.”
“I can’t.” He sounded pitiful and when he glanced down at his jeans I saw what had him rooted to the spot. A tarantula was climbing up his leg. He began making odd little guttural noises – Stanley, not the spider.
“Pete, do something,” I said. “Please!”
“Hold on, Stan. Be right there.” He ran to the bathroom and rushed back wearing jeans and shoes, but no socks. His lack of a shirt almost got my attention. Another place, another time. Not now.
The huge tarantula was moving slowly and getting closer to Stanley’s waist. (Okay, huge to me, but really a baby.) My friend’s face was pale and his eyes were wide with terror. His hands were still shaking, although they were clenched into fists.
“Here comes Pete,” I called, feeling helpless.
“I think I’d faint but they’d get me,” Stan said in a high, soft voice. He glanced at the ground where dozens of the arachnids were passing him and quickly raised his face to the sun, closing his eyes.
Pete ran outside, sidestepping the critters so he could help Stanley. Reaching over, he gently brushed the brown spider off the other man’s leg. He reached down and actually touched it, and it rolled on its back, pulling its legs up in what looked like fear.
I wasn’t sure who was more afraid; Stanley or the tarantula.
Stepping outside the door, I thought if Pete could walk among them, so could I. That’s when I realized they were babies; well, young. They were migrating to wherever baby tarantulas migrate. And I realized that, no, I couldn’t walk among them. I stepped back into the house and closed the sliding screen door.
“Follow me,” Pete said, touching Stanley’s elbow, “but don’t step on them. They’re good for the environment.”
“Aren’t their bites poisonous?” Stanley asked, carefully stepping around them. Sweat ran down his temples and he waved his hand in front of his face, trying to cool himself off.
“Not these. These are called blonde tarantulas. Their bite wouldn’t be any worse than a bee sting, more than likely. They generally only come out at night, looking for food. But these young ones need to move on. They could be looking for someplace to hibernate for the winter. I don’t really know.”
I was sure Pete was trying to distract Stanley with his nature speech.
Applause came from behind us.
I turned and saw Felicity, my mother and Frank watching intently and listening. Bubba stood behind them, cowering.
Felicity grabbed Stanley’s arm and pulled him inside the house before making him turn in a circle to make sure no more critters came in with him.
“Where did you learn so much about tarantulas?” Frank asked.
“Since we were coming out here, I did some research on the Internet. I learned a lot of things, but I had no idea they might actually come in handy.”
Stanley peeked out the door before turning to us. “This is the scariest house I’ve ever been in. First Sandi sees the blonde skulking around, even though the rest of us never laid eyes on her. Then Sandi and her mother keep trying to frighten each other, which is a little frightening in itself. Now the tarantulas. How much scarier can it be? Oh, and I almost forgot about the rattlesnake. Good grief, people, what are we going to do?” His voice was still high-pitched but a little less shaky.
“You forgot about the hidden staircase, lover,” Felicity said.
He nodded. “There’s that, too.”
Looking him in the eyes, I said, “Honestly, Stan, the tarantulas seem to be on the move. It doesn’t look like they’re going to stick around. And to be honest, I would have been just as frightened as you were.” The thought made a shiver run down my back.
Frank excused himself and ran up the stairs, only to return in a few minutes. “I watched out the front window. Those little buggers are headed across the road and out into the vacant fields looking for new homes. Just give it a little time and they’ll be gone. Well, most of them. If you see any sticking around, don’t kill them. They’ll help Livvie and me keep the bug count down.”
“They will?” my mother asked. “Are you saying that bugs mean fine dining to them?”
Frank nodded and put his arm around my mother’s shoulders. “We’re in the country now, Livvie. You’re going to have to get used to some of these things.”
She looked skeptical. “We’re in the country, but the country we’re in is in the desert.” She sighed heavily, a la Sandi. “I never thought I’d have to get used to snakes and tarantulas, but I guess you gotta do what ya gotta do.”
Stanley looked even more skeptical than my mother. “I think I’ll just work in the house for a while. What can I do to help?”
“While you’re all talking about this, I’m going get dressed. At least I finished my shower before Stan screamed like a girl.” Pete left us, returning to the bathroom.
Stanley watched his retreating back, smiling. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever screamed in that high-pitched voice. Thankfully he was good-natured and didn’t mind teasing from his friend.
“Did you leave enough hot water for me,” I called after him.
He didn’t reply.
Ignoring Pete and me, my mother gave Stanley a hug. “You can help us paint today. By tomorrow I think the hairy little things will be gone.” She paused and glanced out the window again. “They are kind of cute in an ugly sort of way.”
Stanley followed her gaze and frowned.
Felicity smiled at him. “Everything will be okay, honey bun.”
I’d never be able to explain it, but I had this unbelievable desire to go outside and make friends with one of the “hairy little things”.
I fought the urge.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After my shower I decided to take a quick look outside, through the front window on the main level.
The tarantulas seemed in a hurry to get away from us as much as we wanted them gone. It took some time since there were so many. Frank headed out to his workshop. I saw him bend over in the doorway and carefully pick up a spider, setting it outside. Pete watched him and they talked.
I also saw Tyler’s vehicle driving down the road very slowly. It was pretty muddy, both the truck and the road. The two brothers and their wives piled out of the truck and turned to look at the llama ranch. I needed to start thinking of it as a bed and breakfast instead of a working ranch of any type. Waving from the window, I wondered if they saw me. They didn’t wave back, so probably not. I could see them watching the spiders cross the road. It didn’t look like any of them flinched, but I was far away with a limited view.
I glanced left and right, looking for a blonde head, just in case. Nothing. A mere mortal would have been jumpier because of the events of the past few days, but I’m a private eye. I don’t scare as easily as the average woman. I chuckled to myself and turned from the window.
“Whatcha doin’?” my mother asked.
I jumped about a foot and my heart pounded. “Mother, if you keep sneaking up on me, I’ll – ”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. You were so busy watching the neighbors that you didn’t hear me.” The grin on her face told me I was right; she’d tippy-toed into the living room, trying to scare me.
So much for nerves of steel, I thought.
“Do you believe me?” she asked.
She raised her eyebrows and tried to look innocent. “Oh? You think you can frighten me? Give it your best shot.” Her words belied her expression. She turned and walked away, laughing to herself.
This was a side of my mother I’d never seen before, a side that might mean she was a bit eccentric. She was having fun trying to frighten me. She was playing with me, and probably just waiting for me to try to scare her back. I’d have to plan carefully… Plan what? How to put my mother in an early grave? No, nothing like that.
I walked out of the living room and into the family room realizing the house had given her a mission which was to have a good time while we worked so hard. I’d just have to take her up on her quest to make life interesting.
After my father passed away we’d both been so busy trying to make a life for ourselves that we never had time for fun. The time had finally arrived to let go and enjoy each other. I smiled, ready to take her up on her challenge. It would all be in the timing.
I joined our small group in the apartment. Stanley and Felicity decided they could paint the bedroom without our help, while my mother and I painted things like the bathroom, linen closet and hallway.
“We make quite a team,” I said. “Look how much we’re accomplishing.”
Mother glanced over her shoulder at me. “Sandi, have I ever told you I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else in the whole wide world?”
My grin was huge and wouldn’t go away. “Nor I you, Mom.”
Felicity stuck her head out of the bedroom. “I love you both.” And she disappeared again.
“You can be my second daughter,” my mother called out.
Felicity had been adopted as a baby and had no idea who her real parents were. Unfortunately, her adoptive parents had passed away years before their time should have been over. She considered us her family now, and we returned the feeling.
Something must have set me off because I was spending too much time thinking about the past; my father, Felicity’s background, and whatever wanted to interrupt my normal thoughts.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Mother said after a few too many quiet moments.
“For some reason I’m thinking about what we’ve all been through. Did I ever tell you that Stanley’s mother was a fortuneteller in a circus for most of her life? He had a strange childhood. I don’t think he ever knew his father. I hope to meet his mother someday.”
“I’d like to meet her, too. I’ll bet she’s a hoot.”
“Hoot? When did you start using words like that?”
Mom shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I’ve spent too much time around older people lately. Frank and I have been volunteering at the local senior center. Did you know they eat desert before they eat their lunch?”
“Why?” I asked. “I don’t get it.”
“One day I asked one of the elderly men why they do that and he said because at their age they didn’t know if they’d still be around for desert if they ate it last.”
Her story made me laugh. I couldn’t help but wonder what her reply might have been.
Stanley stuck his head around the doorframe. “Sweetums told me what you two were talking about. We both love you. Just thought you’d like to know.”
His head disappeared before we could respond.
What had started out as a typical day was turning into something different, and maybe a little special. I couldn’t help but wonder what might happen next. On the other hand, with the blonde around maybe I didn’t want to know. I shook my head and continued painting.
We were working on the hallway when Mom glanced at her watch. “I think we’d better start thinking about lunch.”
“Why don’t you whip something up and I’ll keep painting?”
“Okay. I’ll call everyone when lunch is ready.”
She carried her paint brush to the sink and cleaned it before washing her hands.
While she did that, Pete and Frank came into the apartment bearing a refrigerator on a dolly. No one spoke a word while they got it hooked up and started it cooling.
Without a word they left, returning with a dining set and chairs.
Frank looked from the last chair to my mother. “I know we can’t really set things up yet, but until the company comes out to put in new tile, we’ll use this. We can’t keep eating off of our laps, and when the weather is bad we can’t eat at the barbeque table outside.”
My mother set down the knife she was spreading mayonnaise with and gave her husband a hug and a kiss before finishing the sandwiches.
Pete watched them with interest before turning to smile at me. I knew that he knew exactly what they were feeling. I smiled back, knowing I’d be on the receiving end of a hug, too.
“Come on for lunch everyone,” my mother called out. “Felicity? Stanley? Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Fel replied.
She and Stanley walked out of the bedroom looking like someone had thrown paint at them.
“I think maybe enough spiders are gone that Stan can start helping the men,” she said, taking a paper towel and trying to wipe paint off of her face.
“Oh, you.” Stanley washed his hands in the sink.
After the sandwiches disappeared, the men, including Stanley, left to work on Frank’s workshop. I could hear their voices disappear into the distance.
We cleared away the lunch trash and my mother picked up the dish soap. There weren’t that many utensils to wash.
I glanced at my mother and Felicity. “You two go ahead and finish what you were doing and I’ll wash up the dishes. Okay?”
“Trying to get out of painting?” my mother asked.
“Yes.”
They returned to their jobs while I washed paint out of the sink and filled it with soapy water.
I was whistling to myself when I glanced out the window and saw the back of a blonde head on a woman standing near the swimming pool.
“Uh oh.”
I grabbed a paper towel and dried my hands while I ran outside.
Chapter Twenty-Five
She was gone! In the time it took me to run from the sink past the breakfast bar and out the sliding glass doors, Blondie had disappeared. There were still a few tarantulas, but no blonde.
Would I ever find out who she was and what she wanted?
Tarantulas? The ick factor reared its ugly head.
“Sandi? What are you doing out there with all the creepy critters?” My mother stood at the sliding glass door watching me.
“She was here again.”
She knew exactly who I meant. “You know, sweetie, if you were anyone else I’d begin to wonder if your imagination was working overtime. However, you’re my daughter and I know better.”
“Was that your way of saying if it was anyone else you’d think they’d mentally jumped off a cliff? Gone around the bend? Lost their marbles?”
Mother laughed. “Yes, that’s about the gist of it, but in your case I have a feeling this is really happening. I don’t get it, but you’re for real and so is your blonde.”
“She’s not my blonde, but thank you, Mom. You have no idea how much I appreciate your confidence in me.”
“I’m confident you’ll figure this out before you leave for your honeymoon. Right?”
“I sure hope so.”
“With no furniture, voices echo in here,” Felicity said, walking out of the bedroom. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation. I have confidence in you, too, and I’d be more than happy to help you figure out what’s going on. In all honesty, I don’t believe in ghosts either.”
Before we could discuss the situation, a voice travelled down the stairs. “Hello, are you down there?” It was Tyler.
“Come on down. We’re here,” my mother replied.
We heard his footsteps on the short flight of stairs before he stepped into the apartment. “I didn’t just
walk in,” he said apologetically. “Frank said to come on inside when I told him I wanted to talk to you.”
“That’s okay,” Mom said. “Until we get moved in, don’t worry about just walking in. After we move in you can start knocking. And when we become a B&B, you can walk in without knocking most of the time.” She grinned.
“Thanks, but I’ll knock from now on. Anyway, I want to talk to all of you for a minute. I just heard from Zetta Ellison. I told her you were going to go over to talk to her and she said to let you know she’s waiting.”
“Hmm. We need a break anyway,” I said. “Why don’t we go talk to her right now?” I looked from my mother to Felicity and they both nodded.
Turning to Tyler, I asked, “Which house does she live in?”
“She and Bill live across the road in the green mobile home. Living out here means they don’t have company often, so they’re anxious to meet you all. You in particular, Livvie. They want to know who their new neighbor is.”
“As soon as we clean up a little, we’ll head over there.” My mother held out her paint-spattered hands.
Taking note of my clean hands, he said, “Sandi, can I talk to you about my writing for a few minutes? Maybe while the others are washing up?”
“Sure. Let’s go upstairs.”
Tyler asked a few questions about what it was really like to be a private investigator.
“Overall? Kind of humdrum,” I said. “We spend plenty of time watching people on behalf of insurance companies and we do a lot of research. As a writer I guess you’d say I go on stakeouts. I call it surveillance. Just about the time we’re comfortable, some bigger case comes along and we fall all over ourselves trying to find information, or clues. We’re sometimes very protective of clients, too.”
“Have you ever been involved in solving a murder?” he asked.
I almost laughed. Me, the one Rick Mason calls a body magnet? “Yes.”
“Would you elaborate?”