2 Cupcakes, Sales, and Cocktails

by Pamela DuMond

  “I didn’t know that.” Annie frowned.

  “That woman’s a treasure.” Lorinda folded some bras. “She’s been here for thirty-five years. Frankly, I think management’s a fool to let her go. But, what do I know?” She threw her hands up in the air.

  Annie threw her hands up in the air as she searched for nice words she could say, ’cause she definitely didn’t believe Edith was a treasure. “What do you know?”

  Lorinda eyeballed Annie’s chest. “I know you’re wearing the wrong bra – the wrong size, shape, fit, spring factor. After you find Edith, come back here and let me measure you for a new one to support your girls properly.”

  “Oh,” Annie said. “Edith said something like that as well.”

  “See what I mean? Edith Flowers. Practically an Einstein, that one.”

  * * *

  Annie stood outside the door to the Snotsky’s Employee Lounge. “Employees Only!” was discretely lettered underneath the official sign. It wasn’t like she’d never snuck into a place she wasn’t allowed before. But right now she was tired, disappointed, and frankly felt defeated.

  But then she thought of the indignities she’d endured by every nasty clerk, bad driver, mean dentist or soon-to-be ex-husband in her entire life. It was time to stand up for herself. And that meant retrieving her damn parking stub. She took a deep breath, and pushed her way inside the Snotsky’s Employee’s Lounge door.

  * * *

  “Hello,” Annie whispered as she snuck through the lounge slightly crouched over as she glanced around. There were fresh lockers, huge mirrors and shiny sinks. The carpeting appeared new. “Edith Flowers? Yoo-Hoo? Are you in here, Edith?”

  No one replied. The locker room was obviously between shifts and a bit of a ghost town. Annie looked at the locker room’s amenities. Blow driers perched in pristine containers on the sinks next to the mirrors. A bulletin board on the wall was filled with employees’ news and advertisements.

  She leaned in and examined the postings. Someone was having a Hawaiian themed BBQ this weekend. Someone else was selling a slightly used queen mattress. Snotsky’s Management had a flier posted for available jobs.

  Her cell phone rang in her purse. Annie fumbled through her bag. She pulled out her phone, clicked the button and put it to her ear. “Annie Graceland here,” she whispered.

  “Considering you’re my only daughter I wish you were here in Oconomowoc Wisconsin with me, your only mother,” Nancy said.

  “I love you, Mom,” Annie whispered. “Use your inside voice, please. This isn’t a good time to talk.” She spotted a little note on the bulletin board. The ink was smudged. It read, “I worship you at your best. Adore you at your worst. But at the end of every night, I sit alone, still waiting, always waiting for you.” Huh, Annie thought. There was a poet wannabe working at Snotsky’s.

  “When is a good time to talk?” Nancy asked. “You call on Mother’s Day, Christmas, my birthday, and yours. Other than that, this whole calling thing since you moved to L.A. is pretty random.”

  “We talk twice a week, Mom. And I e-mail you every day.”

  “What’s e-mail?”

  Annie sighed. “Remember when I brought you my re-furbished laptop computer and hooked it up to the cables at your desk? Showed you how to turn it on and enter your password? We type messages back and forth to each other? Well, at least I do.”

  “You mean the little flat plastic box? I thought that was an object d’art. I thought only spies had passwords? Are we spies now?”

  “I’ll call you when I get home tonight and we’ll figure it out, Mom. Must go.”

  “Why should I have to type a message to my only daughter when I can hear her lovely voice? Why are you whispering? Are you at the theatre?”

  “No. I’m… kind of busy.” Annie looked at the row of changing stalls lining the lounge’s walls. And she shivered. Something didn’t feel right. The majority of the doors were closed. But were they locked? She walked over and turned the knob on one. It opened easily.

  She peered inside. A small bench to sit on. A small mirror on the wall. Simple. Modern. Efficient. Similar to the dressing rooms but with doors that were more private. Annie closed the door and looked at the door next to it. One down. Fourteen to go.

  “Fine. I’ll hang up,” Nancy said. “Just wanted to share that your Aunt Susan is in the hospital. Bye-Bye.”

  Annie froze. “Wait! What’s wrong with Aunt Susan? Is she okay? Details.” She opened and closed several more dressing room doors.

  “Oh, now you have the time. Fine. Do you remember Dr. Paul Pournebody?”

  Annie clutched her jaw. “The mean Oconomowoc dentist who made me cry and said I’d never be pretty ’cause I had an underbite?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Dick,” Annie said.

  “Look at you being psychic again. Yes Dr. Pournebody came down with a bad case of the you-know-what, I can’t say it. Your Aunt Susan was kind enough to recall him fondly from his younger, less pervy years, visited him in the hospital and brought flowers.”

  Annie approached a door in the far corner of the lounge and tried to open it. But it was locked. “Cut to the chase. What’s up with Aunt Susan?”

  “She knocked on Pournebody’s semi-private hospital door. When no one answered, she let herself in. She called his name. Nothing. She pulled back the sliding curtain that surrounded his cubicle. He was dead as a doornail, his hands clutching his - ”

  “La-la-la! Don’t want to know what he was clutching,” Annie said.

  “Upon witnessing that sight for sore eyes, your Aunt Susan had high blood pressure or low blood pressure. I get them mixed up. She passed out and dropped the flowers. They’re monitoring her blood pressure.”

  Annie dropped to the ground and peeked under the stall door. When she spotted a low-heeled black pump attached to a flesh-colored nylon stocking-clad leg that led to a sensible black skirt slumped sideways on the little bench. “That means Aunt Susan’s okay?” Annie asked.

  “I think so,” Nancy said.

  Six

  Lace Hankies

  Annie lay on the thinly carpeted ground in Snotsky’s Unisex Employee Lounge, attempting to spy through the tiny gap underneath a door. No matter how many angles she swiveled her head, she couldn’t get a good read on the scene behind that door. Damn. Had Edith passed out as well?

  “Miss Flowers, I sincerely hope you’re okay. And I really need my parking stub.” But Edith didn’t reply.

  “Well of course the flowers are okay,” Nancy said over the phone.

  Annie pushed herself off the ground and jiggled the door’s handle. It didn’t give.

  “Frankly I’m a little shocked you’re not more concerned about your Aunt Susan.”

  “Mom, besides the trauma of seeing Pournebody dead and clutching his whatzits, I’m sure Aunt Susan’s just fine.” Annie pressed her shoulder and hip and the door and pushed. The door gapped a little. She tried peering inside, but it was like looking through a paperclip.

  “That woman has given you a birthday check for ten dollars wrapped in a new lace handkerchief for thirty-eight years.”

  “I know. Aunt Susan’s the peachiest. I love her to pieces and always thank her. I’ll call her tomorrow. But right now, I have to go. Love you too. Bye-bye.” Annie hung up and positioned herself sideways next to the changing room’s door. She rubbed her hips, bent her knees and breathed in and out deeply.

  She slammed the door as hard as she could with her hip. It flew open; she catapulted through the gap and landed next to the body collapsed in the corner on the little dressing room bench. Edith Flowers wasn’t simply passed out. Her lips were white, her eyes didn’t move. She was dead.

  “Argggh!” Annie screamed. She scrambled up and backpedaled out of the changing room. She lurched towards the counters by the sinks, crouched over them and held onto them for dear life as her knees grew weak and her heart beat too quickly in her chest. Oh my God, she thought. Holy crap. Jeez Louise. She�
��d just found her first dead body.

  What should she do? Call the police? Yes. Race out of the lounge in case the killer was lurking? Yes. Get her parking stub? Yes.

  “I know you were cleared of the shoplifting allegation, but now you’re trespassing in the employees’ lounge,” a female voice said.

  Oh no. Good God no. Annie crossed herself, and looked up. Edith Flowers stared at her from the mirror, her bare neck crooked, cricked to one side, as she applied red lipstick to her white lips.

  Annie pushed herself away from the counter and backpedaled. “I’m enormously sorry for what happened to you, Miss Flowers. But, no. I’ve done this once. And I’m not doing this again.” Annie clutched her heart with one hand and ran to the door.

  She stopped, turned and stared back at Edith. “By the way, in case you’re still, you know, lingering? There will be a cake in your honor in Ladies Lingerie at the end of your shift should you wish to attend.” But Edith wasn’t in the mirror anymore.

  “Cake? What happened to me? What in the world are you talking about?” Edith Flowers stood, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the exit door to Snotsky’s Employee Lounge.

  Annie gritted her teeth and tried to step through Edith but she was enveloped by coldness that froze her bones and made them feel brittle. If she moved an inch further they’d snap like twigs. It was like stepping into Antarctica butt naked after a bikini wax. She pulled back and shuddered. “Edith,” Annie said. “Don’t you know? Haven’t you figured it out?”

  “Know what?” Edith frowned.

  Ah, frick. How to escape yet another ghost, Annie wondered. “The Snotsky’s bulletin board.” She pointed to it. “Look! There’s a festive Hawaiian BBQ this very weekend!”

  Edith marched away from the door to take a gander at the bulletin board.

  Annie raced out the door.

  * * *

  She found herself in the hallway. Racks of clothes lined the halls. Boxes and bags filled with mannequin parts and hangers jutted out at dangerous angles as Annie ran past them. One end of the hallway led back to the department store. One end led to a merchandise room. She bolted towards the store. But Edith materialized in front of her and stopped her cold at its juncture.

  “I feel different. Something isn’t right.” Edith raised an eyebrow and rubbed her crooked neck. “Tell me. What happened to me?”

  Annie’s eyes narrowed. After being haunted by Derrick Fuller, she was used to ghosts trying to push her around. No more. She’d push back.

  Annie took a deep breath and cracked her knuckles. “Okay. Repeat after me, ‘Everything will be fine.’”

  “Everything will be fine,” Edith said.

  “Perfect,” Annie said. “I’m oh so sorry to inform you that you’re dead.”

  “Perfect. I’m oh so sorry to inform you that you’re - ”

  Annie shook her head. “No, that’s my line. You are dead, Edith.”

  “No.” Edith shook her head.

  “Honestly, you are. Do you see a bright light hovering anywhere near you? Go to it.” Annie pointed towards the ceiling.

  Edith balled up her hands into fists and jammed them on her waist. “If I’m dead, then how come you can see me?”

  Another uncomfortable question. “Because… because…” Annie thought hard. And it came to her. She waved her hands around in funky circular motions in front of Edith’s face. “I’m only a hallucination, just a memory of someone you encountered right before you passed. Ooh Weeee Ooh,” Annie intoned and attempted to dance away from Edith who didn’t look completely convinced. So Annie hummed the theme from The Twilight Zone. “Dee dee, Dee dee. Dee dee, Dee dee.”

  “I don’t buy the hallucination theory,” Edith said. “And I don’t buy that I’m dead either. For heaven’s sakes, I’m moving to St. Augustine next week.”

  “Now we’re making progress,” Annie said. “‘SAINT Augustine’?’ ‘For heaven’s sakes’? Your ethereal being, Edith, is convincing your physical being that you are no longer walking on this earth at this time. Which means you’re dead.”

  “Why did I buy a condo in St. Augustine if I’m dead?” Edith asked.

  “You bought it before you were killed. Now you’re dead as a doornail.”

  “But wouldn’t I be sad?”

  “Eventually. But right now you are…. The Grateful Dead.”

  “But if I’m really dead, then how did I die?” Edith’s voice quivered.

  Annie really didn’t want to get into the specifics, but her brother was an accomplished chiropractor. She tilted her head and examined the nasty crook in Edith’s neck. Realized she’d been strangled and most likely finished off with a really bad neck crack.

  “I think someone was very mean to your neck,” Annie said.

  “Someone strangled me and broke my neck?” Edith asked.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Edith started crying. “I married the man of my dreams. He cheated on me and left me with nothing. I have three degrees but couldn’t find a job. So I applied at Snotsky’s. I worked here for thirty-five years.”

  “I had a crappy, cheating first husband too,” Annie said.

  “Last year Mr. Snotsky sold his stores to a cold-hearted corporation. Mr. I’m-so-smart-thirty-something Joshua Bumble became the new store manager. He called me into his office, offered me a severance package and asked me, not so kindly might I add, to leave. This is it? This is my life?” Edith sobbed.

  “I don’t know.” Annie reached out to her.

  Edith wiped her snotty ghost nose on her ghost designer knock-off sleeve and hiccupped uncontrollably. “I was supposed to have a family. I was supposed to have children and grandchildren. I didn’t. Fine. I came to peace with that. At least I’d be able to spend my golden years a few blocks from a beautiful beach. But now I can’t even do that?”

  “It’s totally not fair,” Annie said. Something shifted in Annie’s brain and an idea formed. ‘Back off!’ she told her idea. But it wouldn’t. And as always, Annie went with her gut. “Edith. You and I didn’t start off on the right foot.”

  “Probably my fault.” Edith sniffled.

  “At this point it doesn’t matter whose fault. Full disclosure on my part: it seems sometimes I can talk to dead people and help them figure out who killed them. I offer to help you, free of charge, just this once. I can’t bring you back, but perhaps we can find your killer. And then maybe you can go to St. Augustine in heaven. What do you think?”

  “I’m like 100% dead, aren’t I?” Edith sniffled.

  Annie nodded.

  “Okay,” Edith said.

  They hugged for a second until they both pulled away. Edith looked like she’d just hugged a public trash can.

  “Wow,” Annie said. “You’re incredibly cold.”

  “And you’re incredibly sweaty,” Edith said.

  “Yeah there,” Annie said. “Now let’s find your killer.”

  Seven

  Ladies’ Lingerie

  Annie and Edith marched through the Women’s Wear Department where the sash and closed signs were still in place blocking the dressing rooms.

  “Exactly how I left those rooms. Apparently you’re the only person who knows I’m dead. Besides my killer.” Edith’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, wait a minute…”

  “Oh please,” Annie said. “I was busy getting felt up by Mary. I know this is a touchy subject, but who wanted you dead? Give me the short list, please. My head is killing me.” Annie jammed her thumb into her temple.

  “Understand. My neck feels a little off.” Edith massaged her broken tilted neck with her ghostly fingers and looked confused. “I have no idea who would want me dead. I never thought about that until now.”

  Annie and Edith entered the Ladies Lingerie Department. It was filled with tables and racks of bras and panties and a bustier section. In the corner was one little circular rack filled with full-length floral print cotton nightgowns with a small poster of a smiling great grandmother on top of it.
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  “Your ex-husband, Edith? Where has he landed?”

  “Spencer Fields? Moldy sponge of a man. I was wife number two. He’s onto wife number six or seven now. I don’t care about him and he certainly doesn’t care enough about me to take the time or make the effort to murder me.”

  “Okay. Let’s concentrate on work rivals or adversaries,” Annie said.

  “Work… Joshua Bumble. MBA slick hipster with a precious goatee who fancies himself a ladies man.”

  “I hate chin pubes on men,” Annie said. “Whoever came up with that look should seriously be punished.”

  “Bumble hounded me to take the buy-out package and made my life miserable at Snotsky’s until I agreed to retire.”

  “Motive?” Annie asked.

  “I don’t get my final severance check until I turn in my badge to him personally before I walk out the door tonight.”

  “You die, and corporate doesn’t have to pay the money?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think I had to fight that point in the contract.” Edith sighed.

  “So Bumble kills you, saves the corporation a chunk of change and becomes a little more golden in his boss’s eyes,” Annie said. “Hmm. Ladies man, you say? I think we need to pay Joshua Bumble a visit.”

  “He won’t take an unexpected interview.” Edith eyed her. “Unless you’re more, you know, his type.” She coughed.

  “And what’s his type?” Annie asked.

  Edith nodded at Lorinda who dressed a headless busty mannequin with a sexy black lace triple padded bra.

  A digital display next to the mannequin played a video where a small chested model got passed over by some guys at a bar. Then a man at the beach marched right past the model and headed towards a busty chick in a skimpy bikini. The model pouted. But when her date ditched her at a wedding reception to chat up a Double D bridesmaid, she grew weepy. Until she spotted an ad for The Incredible Bra.

  Annie inched closer to the video display and her eyes grew huge as she listened to the female spokesmodel’s breathy voiceover. “I didn’t know what I was missing until I discovered The Incredible Bra. It’s triple padded, and features super spring under wires whose technology was invented by NASA. Research shows it can withstand airbag deployment in up to 45 mph collisions.”