The Hinky Velvet Chair

by Jennifer Stevenson

  “There he is,” Clay said. Half a bock ahead, Buzz pedaled away from the Hancock, dodging tourists and suits, pointing his bike south along Michigan. Had he noticed them already?

  “If he’s going where I think he’s going—”

  “I think he’s going.”

  Jewel blasphemed and looped around a loading taxi. Buzz stopped smack in front of Giorgio lo Gigolo, goddammit, and got off the bike. She double-parked half a block behind him, threw on the flashers, and turned over her Official Business card. “Can you carry that thing and grab him at the same time?”

  Clay examined the tracking unit. “Not if it means wrestling. I doubt it would survive a fall on concrete.”

  “Never mind. He’s seen you once. He might not recognize you. You walk ahead and take a position south of him, not too far away. If he gets back on the bike, he’s gone.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Clay moseyed past Buzz as directed and Jewel followed, ducking behind other pedestrians. Buzz kept looking up and down the street and checking his phone. Appointment. When his head was turned south, she ran up and grabbed his backpack strap.

  He almost knocked over his bike. “Off-officer Jewel!”

  “Don’t try to run. How do you think we found you?”

  His eyes got round. Clay came up and showed him the tracking unit.

  “What,” Jewel began, “are you doing here? I told you not to come here. What’s in the backpack today? Dammit, do you want to go to jail?” she said, her voice rising.

  “I got customers. I got commitments.”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder and Clay slid the backpack away from him at the same time. “It is against the law, Buzz. You cannot sell drugs.”

  “It’s a potion.”

  “It’s an unlicensed drug with serious effects.”

  Head down in the backpack, Clay said, “What am I looking for? This thing is the Black Hole of Calcutta.”

  “Teeny bottles,” Jewel said.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” someone said, and Jewel looked around. Buzz wriggled out of her grasp, but he didn’t run.

  It was Beulah. “I was afraid I’d missed you.” Her well-bred voice was horribly at odds with her appearance, which was more bag-lady-like than ever: hair like a crow’s nest, no makeup, schlumpfy sweatsuit, expensive running shoes with no laces, a scuffed-up Coach handbag, and of course her signature brooch, broad as her palm, with her name picked out in diamonds.

  Today, Beulah smelled bad. Guess she hasn’t been swimming.

  Not bag-lady-like was the wad of crisp twenties she brandished. “Three more friends want to try the potion.”

  Buzz looked miserably at the money. “I came to tell you, I can’t get any right away.”

  Jewel’s phone rang. She told Buzz, “Do not move,” and looked at the number. Ed again. “What!”

  “For crissake, get over to Giorgio lo Gigolo and bust that kid! He’s selling shit to some woman right there, right now!”

  “I’m on it. Who told you?”

  “Giorgio called,” Ed said. “He’s foaming.”

  She put the phone against her chest. “Clay, go inside, will you, and talk Giorgio off his window ledge? Tell him we’re handling it.” She told the phone, “We’re handling it.”

  “Uh,” Clay said, looking past her.

  Ed began, “So help me Jesus Mary and Joseph on a flyin’ Swiss petunia—”

  Jewel hung up on him. “Clay. It’s kind of important?”

  Clay looked past her, his eyes bugging.

  Jewel smelled another funny odor.

  “Beulah! Darling!”

  “Bunny!” Beulah embraced another bag lady and air-kissed her. This one was dressed better, and her fingernails still showed the ruins of a nice manicure, but her hair was the usual Self Love Lady mess, and she seemed to have slept in her silk Chanel suit. Also, the b.o.

  Bunny said, “Did you get any? Because I went to Presbyterian Homes to see Mother and it occurred to me, the potion is just what she needs.”

  Beulah lit up. “Brilliant! Bunny, meet some friends of mine.” She gestured graciously to Jewel.

  “Clay,” Jewel said in a steely voice. “Get in there. We don’t want Giorgio calling the cops.”

  Clay handed her Buzz’s backpack and went into the salon.

  Jewel tried in vain to get the ladies to move down the sidewalk, away from Giorgio’s front door. Beulah rolled over her with a flood of courtesies.

  “And you know Buzz, of course, our prophet, our font. Buzz, darling, we’re a bit pressed for time. I think I’ll need five. There’s three, and then for my aunt and for her daily helper. Poor child, she puts up with a great deal from my aunt,” she said aside to Bunny and Jewel. “Although.” She nibbled a dirty fingertip. “If one means to be generous, one should remember everyone at the Homes. Hmm....” She flipped through the thick wad of twenties. “I have enough cash for perhaps thirty doses.”

  “I don’t got any.” Buzz looked at the money with anguish. “The doc’s out and he ain’t made a new batch or left me none or nothin’. Somebody took my supply off me.” He sent Jewel a sullen glare.

  “The doc’s been busy,” Jewel said.

  “Oh, do you know the good doctor?” Bunny said. “Buzz has been so discreet about his identity. I realize we are engaged in a double-blind experiment, and we wouldn’t dream of compromising the data. But of course, sooner or later, the product will be available commercially. Won’t it?” She clasped her hands together. “It is needed.”

  Bunny might smell, but she was appealing. Something about her wistful pleading made Jewel wish she could give her the darned potion.

  A woman came out of Giorgio lo Gigolo and started to walk by with her nose in the air.

  “Allison?” Bunny said.

  The woman did a double take. “Bunny? Beulah! Where have you been? Dr. Korshak says you’ve been missing sessions. You don’t answer his calls. He actually broke confidentiality to ask me to get in touch with you and make sure you’re okay.” Allison looked Beulah over. “Are you okay?” Her nose wrinkled.

  Beulah waved a hand. “That man. A vampire. I don’t need him anymore.”

  Giorgio lo Gigolo burst out of his salon, his face red, his gelled-to-death hair bristling. “This is how I tell you!” he snarled at Clay, who was sprinting beside him. “These horrible women! They ruin my business! Ah, here comes it the TV peoples, that’s all I’m needing yet!” He clutched his hair.

  Pedestrians stopped to watch his angst.

  Jewel looked over her shoulder. A news van. Shit. “Go,” she muttered to Buzz. “Get out of here. You get on the news, you’re busted. Go-go-go!”

  Buzz grabbed his backpack, slung it around his neck, and took off on his bike.

  On Michigan Avenue, cars were slowing to see what the news van was about.

  Jewel sidled left, hoping against hope to hide Buzz’s exit from the reporters. She grabbed the tracking unit from Clay and shoved her ballpoint pen into Beulah’s face. “Would you repeat that, please? The part about love?”

  Beulah glanced at Jewel’s “microphone” and swelled with excitement. “Why, we want to share the love.” She radiated glorious peace and delight.

  “The self love,” Bunny added, shoving in next to Beulah and looking around for the camera.

  The cameraman was aiming for Giorgio lo Gigolo. Over the heads of the Self Love Ladies, Jewel caught Clay’s eye, mimed a throat-cut and waggled her head.

  Clay slithered between the camera and the angry salon owner. Jewel heard him say, “Giorgio, you don’t want to appear on television in connection with these women, do you?”

  Thank God. My partner has a brain.

  Giorgio vanished into the salon.

  A reporter elbowed Jewel aside. She was carrying her own microphone and she beckoned to her cameraman, who shoved Jewel yet farther away, out of the shot.

  “May we have your name for Channel Eight?” she heard the reporter saying to Allison.

 
“Beulah!” Jewel yelled. “Don’t forget tonight!”

  Beulah waved. “I won’t!”

  As Jewel ducked around the growing crowd of spectators, she saw four familiar faces jaywalking across Michigan Avenue toward Giorgio’s, their hair like scarecrows’, their likeable faces glowing, their eyes gleaming with charisma. Reading from left to right: Diane, Yasmin, Shirley, and Mrs. Noah Butt.

  Jewel trotted back to where Clay leaned against the Tercel. “Let’s beat it.”

  Her plan was in motion. Now to get Clay out of her hair for a while, so she could follow up with the bad-hair army by phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Clay was disappointed that Jewel didn’t mention his slick work with the gigolo guy. Instead she sent him off to the party goods store. When he brought back two huge bags, Griffy was in the kitchen, aggravating the caterers.

  Griffy cooed with delight over the bags full of huge feathered masks in brilliant colors, each with a silky hood that covered the wearer’s hair and supported the masks. She chose a mask with long lime-and-emerald feathers sticking a foot into the air. The feathers cascaded over the whole front of her body, making her look like a big green bird. A green silk cloak hung from the back of the mask.

  “You can’t see my dress! Oh, well, Jewel will have more fun if she isn’t being pestered by men. And Virgil loves masks.”

  Clay hoped they had made up. “Where is Virgil?” He didn’t want to get caught searching the house for that tape.

  Jewel walked into the kitchen. “He’s in the collection room, bidding against Dr. Kauz for the Venus Machine.” She chose a mask striped blue-and-white. Chicago Police colors, Clay noted.

  Clay frowned. “I thought he already bought the Venus Machine.” Sovay was playing with fire if she messed Virgil over.

  “Guess not.” Jewel leaned closer and whispered, “You were great back there.”

  Clay forgot Virgil’s troubles. “What did I do?”

  “You got Giorgio off the street when the cameras showed up. Nice work, partner.”

  It embarrassed Clay, how good he felt. “Yeah, but those wacky ladies. Ed won’t be happy to see them on the news.”

  “He wasn’t,” Jewel said, making a face. “He called. Again. Hey, would you go put these signs up in the alley for Griffy?”

  He leaned over and pecked her on the lips, and she smiled.

  “Aren’t you going to pick a mask?”

  “I don’t need no steenking mask,” he said, and swaggered out with the signs before she could see how pleased he was.

  o0o

  While Clay put up signs, Jewel kept Griffy out of the way of the caterers and her own staff. She also watched Mellish, who may have been FBI or a burglar, but he buttled well.

  The whole time, she itched to sneak into Virgil’s room. Randy was still in the bed, alone, no doubt afraid that she wasn’t coming for him.

  “Will Lord Darner be back from Skokie in time for the party?” Griffy said.

  “I hope so.” If she couldn’t get to Randy this afternoon, maybe she find time during the party. Assuming Virgil didn’t think of it first and squat. “Where’s Virgil?”

  Griffy folded paper napkins into birds and piled them in an antique china basin. “In the collection room. They’re moving the machines down to the back garden,” she said, referring to the postage-stamp yard behind the house.

  Jewel peeked out the pantry window. “But you already have a huge bar out there. There’s no room.”

  “They’ll end up in the garage.” Griffy seemed weird today. The serenity she had gained after her Venus Machine ride had turned steely. “I told and told them, but they didn’t listen.”

  Jewel went outside and waylaid Clay in the garden. “Let’s get into Virgil’s room tonight. Things are coming to a head between those two. I don’t want Randy caught in the crossfire.”

  “As in?”

  “As in, Virgil sneaking the bed and using Randy the way you did. Or Griffy might get hold of it. I haven’t forgotten how Nina once stole the brass bed so she could keep Randy forever.”

  No woman who’d had Randy on tap would want to let him go. Jewel hoped she would be different, if and when the time came.

  “Good point. Let’s go,” Clay said.

  It didn’t happen. Virgil’s bedroom was locked, and Clay was unable to pick it. It seemed to bother him that he couldn’t deliver. He said, “I’ll ask Griffy for the key.”

  But then Kauz summoned Clay and all the male servants to move the Venus Machine into the garage, and Clay had to spend the rest of the afternoon helping the mad scientists “recalibrate.”

  Jewel fumed. The block partiers trickled down the alley at six. Griffy’s bar was already set up, so they came to Virgil’s house first. The late summer sun was still high enough to glitter on the Venus Machine’s brass and mother-of-pearl fittings through the open garage door. Kauz, tubby but resplendent in a tuxedo, offered rides to all comers.

  “Vun treatment on zis device vill make you irresistable to the opposite zex!” he ballyhooed, his accent thickening.

  The yuppies lined up to get machinkusized. Kauz was doing brisk business when Beulah arrived with her Self Love Ladies.

  This fitted in with Jewel’s plan. They looked bedraggled as wet hens and smelled almost as bad, but every one radiated happiness and charm.

  Jewel steered them away from Kauz and hustled them into masks. “I’m guessing the news cameras will arrive after dark. We want to spring you on them at the right moment.” Her plan had weak spots, and timing was one of them.

  “I used to love masked balls,” Bunny said, fingering her fuschia feather mask in puzzlement.

  “I wore a mask every day of my life,” Beulah said like a queen-turned-nun. “Thank goodness that’s over.” But she put on a turquoise mask. Her eyes looked out, sweet and calm as a stone goddess’s. “Buzz will come if he can find another supply.”

  “What!” That kid! “I’m J — Julia, who are you?” Jewel said to a Self Love lady donning a purple mask.

  “Annette Perini,” said the Self Love lady, shaking hands.

  “Annette, I think you all should rehearse your message and decide how you want to present your story to the media.”

  “Excellent point,” Beulah said crisply. “But I do apologize. I’ve been calling you Jule.”

  “Childhood nickname,” Jewel lied. “You might practice your spiel on different people. Not the media yet, just the neighbors at the party.” She saw Griffy come out of the house with the bowl of origami paper napkins. “Griffy, come meet someone!” This could handle two problems at once. “You can start by telling Griffy all about yourselves,” she suggested to the Self Love ladies.

  And Griffy will stop ‘helping’ the caterers. Jewel performed introductions and skated away, looking for Clay. It was time to let him in on more of her plan.

  o0o

  “Remember what I’ve told you,” Beulah said to Griffy, winding up a speech that went ninety-percent over Griffy’s head. “Your beauty doesn’t belong to anyone but you. No one can sell it to you or take it away from you.”

  “That makes so much sense,” Griffy said. She felt more powerful today than yesterday. Maybe they knew something after all. The Venus Machine effect seemed to be getting stronger.

  Beulah gestured superbly. “We who have passed into Self Love no longer need the crutches forced on us. We can fly!”

  Griffy thought of parasailing over the lake, and Virgil’s face full of love. She swallowed a lump. “Clay, honey, here’s Beulah—”

  “Good afternoon,” Beulah said to Clay. “I believe we met on Michigan Avenue yesterday.”

  “She says she can see my green tones,” Griffy said proudly. “Where have you been? I wanted you to meet my friends.” She had a party to run, and, as nice as they were, the Self Love ladies did talk.

  Clay looked grim. “I’ve been looking for something.”

  “Looking for what?”

  “Something I can’t find.�
�� Clay seemed grumpy to be stuck with the Self Love ladies, but Griffy figured he was a big boy. The important thing was keeping Virgil from hiding out in his collection room.

  Or in his bedroom. With Sovay.

  She swallowed another lump.

  She also had a humongous ice cream cake coming for his birthday announcement and she didn’t want it to melt while she hunted for him. Another good reason to go find him.

  So she was relieved to see Sovay come out of the house in her gold-and-black-striped feathered mask.

  Sovay walked straight up to her. “We should talk,” she said eerily through the mask.

  Griffy frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’ll be sorry if you don’t,” Sovay said and turned away, hunching over with her hands in front of her face. She scurried toward the English ivy and Griffy saw something plop among the leaves and disappear.

  “Sovay? Are you feeling all right?” Griffy wasn’t sure she wanted to watch Sovay throw up in her ivy. She laid a hand on her bent back. “Do you want a glass of water?”

  “No!” Sovay stayed hunched over, but she grabbed Griffy’s wrist. “Listen.” Her voice was muffled. “Virgil wants you to visit us once we’re living in the south of France. I’ll tell him yes, but only if you agree to let him go without a palimony suit.” More chunks came spasming out of her as she spoke.

  Griffy marveled that anyone could be so nasty even while she was sick. Of course, being sick could make a person nastier. “I don’t believe he has agreed to go anywhere with you.”

  “Believe it.” Urp. “He’s buying the tickets now.” Urp. “I thought I’d tell you, as one friend to another,” Sovay said, looking up with a pointy smile. Then she turned away again to hurl another chunk.

  “I doubt if you have friends,” Griffy said evenly, “but I’ll bring you a glass of water if you want one.”

  Sovay stood up and wiped her lips with one manicured finger. She didn’t speak, but her eyes glittered evilly through the mask.

  Behind her own mask, Griffy felt her heart clutch up. “Well. May the best woman win.”