by Gwen Gardner
“I’ll call Daniel, then. He’ll probably know ‘ow to find him,” said Cappy. He borrowed Riley’s cell phone and made the call.
We couldn’t tackle interviewing suspects head-on. These people didn’t have to speak with us, and they certainly wouldn’t want to if they knew we suspected them of a crime.
Hence, the birth of Operation Engagement.
We had to be sneaky. And yes, we were so going to hell, but for a good cause…
Chapter Seventeen
Tricks of the Trade
“An engagement!” exclaimed Franny. “Oh, how lovely, dear. And Saturday is such a lucky day to shop for rings. Well of course we’ll make you shine, leave it to me.” She zipped through the door like a ghost on a zip-line on who-knows-what kind of mission, leaving me sputtering after her.
“Wait! It’s not a real engagement, Franny…” I flung the bedroom door open but she had disappeared. Crap. Franny was always anxious to help me find a man, as she put it. She didn’t get that marriage was not every woman’s goal in modern times. And certainly not sixteen-almost-seventeen-year-old girls.
A Victorian ghost-nurse, one I recognized as one of the watchers, nodded her head at me as she floated down the hall. I nodded back and tried to smile, but worry about what Franny had in mind distracted me. I went back into my bedroom.
Franny floated back through the door empty-handed. “Drat!” She opened the door and retrieved the garment that could not float through the door with her.
I eyed it suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“This,” she said, “is a corset, designed to…”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But, dear, it will draw in your waist and push up your…”
“No, Franny. I don’t need to be pushed up.”
I began dragging things out of my trunk, searching for something suitable to wear to a fake engagement ring shopping assignment with Badger. I pulled out blue jeans and a sweater…
“No,” said Franny, standing over me with her arms crossed.
Next out came beige pants with beige turtle-neck…
“No.”
“How about…?” I started to pull out my old fall-back, black jeans.
“No!” She actually stomped her foot, which couldn’t have been easy as she doesn’t actually stand on the floor, but several inches above it. “You don’t always have to look like a boy!”
I stood up and crossed my arms. A standoff ensued.
“Franny, it’s not like in your day. We don’t dress up for everything.”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Let me tell you something. I may be a hundred and twenty five years old, but I know how to attract a man. Why, I could teach you tricks…”
“Franny!” My cheeks flamed. I wasn’t a prude, truly. But when she mentioned the line of business she used to be in, it sort of made me uncomfortable.
“I’m not suggesting you don’t know how…you…to… fine!” I stamped my foot in frustration. “What do you suggest I wear, then?”
“Wait here.” She flew off so quickly, the breeze lifted my hair.
I sighed. I had no idea what she would come up with. Probably some medieval torture chamber to go with the corset.
A door down the hall opened and closed. No doubt Franny borrowed something that had belonged to Aunt Amanda. The last time she did that, Simon caught a pink bra floating down the hall. Trust me, boys do not want to see their mother’s undergarments at any time.
The door opened and Franny floated through with something white and filmy, and held it out to me.
“This is perfect,” she said. “White and virtuous. It covers everything, but shows off your curves. At least, the curves you’ll have when you put on the corset.”
A white v-neck, thigh-length, form-fitting sweater with white leggings. The white would add a few pounds, but I could use a few. I had a narrow waist and hips. And I didn’t have much of a bosom to speak of. The corset would help with that.
“All right.” Sometimes agreeing with Franny turned out to be the best option. And she did seem to choose appropriate garments for someone my age. “Do you study modern fashion magazines or something?”
She winked at me. “Tricks of the trade, dear. Now, get dressed and I’ll do your hair. I know exactly how you should wear it. Trust me, dear, men can’t wait to lose their hands in that gorgeous mane of yours. But first, make-up.”
I stood up to view the whole effect better. I turned sideways, hands on hips. The bubble-butt still remained, but if I turned just right, it wasn’t so bad. I practiced a bit while Franny dug through the make-up pit. Not mine, just stuff that came with my room.
“Now where is that rouge-pot?” Franny muttered to herself. “Here we are, and the mascara and kohl. Now sit and let me make you into a woman.” Her eyes gleamed, sort of manically, I thought. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on me.
I needed to add a few years to my appearance to pass for a marriageable age. I knew from experience that Franny’s expertise with hair and make-up was unequaled. She sat me at the vanity table while she worked her magic. Her chilly fingers deftly wielded the wand of mascara like a fairy godmother.
“Open your eyes,” said Franny.
I opened my eyes and gazed at the stranger in the mirror. The transformation was complete. Subtle makeup enhanced my eyes and high cheekbones. My hair hung simply down my back. I looked like my mother, only with blue eyes and pale skin. Tears pricked my eyes. “You’re a complete wonder, Franny. Thank you.”
“We’re not through yet, dear.” She tisked and shook her head. “Just look at your hands. You can’t possibly try on engagement things with those dried up twigs. They’re drier than mine, which is quite pathetic, dear, because I’m dead!”
She clipped and filed and massaged lotion into my hands before choosing a pink nail polish. “He’ll never look at you the same, after this, you wait and see.”
“Franny, I told you. This isn’t a real engagement. Badger and I are working undercover, that’s all.”
“I know what you told me, dear.”
She completely ignored me.
Franny’s preparation for my “engagement” ring shopping paid off. Badger did a double-take when I walked into the Blind Badger. He worked behind the bar with Charlie, just about to finish his afternoon shift.
Charlie smiled a greeting as he served customers at the other end of the bar.
Badger whistled under his breath. “Have a seat - I’ll be a few more minutes. Can I get you anything, gorgeous?”
I slipped onto a barstool. “Quit teasing. And no thanks, I don’t need anything.”
“Who’s teasing? You look amazing.”
The look in his eyes made me go warm all over.
My cheeks flushed, but I took it like a lady. “Thank you, kind sir.”
I felt amazing. Franny forever lamented the fact that I’d never find a man because I looked like a boy. But today, I looked completely feminine, with a curvy waist and ever-so-slight cleavage.
Tyrone worked for his father in the family business, Wahlberg Jewelers. Badger and I were assigned to act like an engaged couple shopping for a ring and pump him for information. Hence the whole dress-up charade.
Badger and I portrayed the happy couple, strolling into Wahlberg’s hand in hand. A bell rang to announce our arrival as we crossed the threshold. A young man, clean cut with brown eyes, short brown hair and wearing an expensive suit greeted us. His name tag introduced him as Tyrone.
“Hello, what can I help you with?”
“We just got engaged,” said Badger, kissing my hand.
I smiled up into his face.
“You want to see engagement rings, of course.” He led us over to a glass-covered case to the left, next to wedding rings. “Do you have a budget?”
I looked at Badger. “Yes, around two thousand pounds,” he said.
Tyrone unlocked the case and pulled out a tray of sparkling rings.
“See anything that strikes
your fancy, luv?” asked Badger.
I’ll admit, my heart fluttered a bit.
“You look familiar,” said Badger to Tyrone, as I scanned the case. “Have we met?”
Tyrone shook his head. “I don’t think so, but you never know. Are you from the area?”
“Yes. My family owns the Blind Badger. It’s over in the village square.”
Tyrone nodded. “We probably have met, then, just not formally.” He flashed a polished smile. A smile that said, I’m about to sell you a ring so I’ll be nice from now until doomsday.
I chose a simple band with an oval shaped diamond in an antique-like setting. I slipped it onto the third finger of my left hand, grateful that Franny gave me a manicure. With my palms down, and sparkling pink nails, my hands looked like any other girl’s.
“This is nice,” I said, holding my hand out for him to see.
“It is. How about that one?” He pointed to another ring with a larger diamond.
“That’s pretty.” I tried it on, looking at it from different angles. “What will we do about the engagement party?” I asked Badger.
“Something formal,” said Badger. “Definitely not a house party. Maybe rent a reception room at a hotel. Hey, that’s where I recognize you from.” Badger was good at the game and completely believable. “From a house party a few years back. I knew we met somewhere.”
Tyrone shrugged. “It’s possible. I go to a lot of parties.”
“I remember this one in particular, because the police came to bust it up.”
Tyrone looked over his shoulder toward the back room. Obviously he didn’t want to be overheard. “Yeah, I remember,” he whispered. “But my father wouldn’t be too pleased to hear about it,” he said, nodding toward the back room.
“Oh. Right.” Badger lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m glad I didn’t drive that night, I can tell you. Some people died in a car crash near the party. The cops thought one of the kids from the party did it.”
Tyrone squirmed. “I - I didn’t know.”
“Really? That’s odd. Because all the papers ran the story,” said Badger.
Tyrone shrugged and shook his head.
“Do you see anything you like, luv?” Badger asked me.
I wondered fleetingly what he would say if I said yes. But being the good girl that I am, I said, “I think I’d like to shop some more.”
“Right, then. Thank you for your help.” Tyrone shook Badger’s hand first, and then mine.
A blue car weaves slowly down a dark, wet road. The occupant is anxious. Fear. Regret. Anxiety. Dizzy. Headlights coming from behind. Turn, turn quickly. Nobody must see...
Badger pulled on my arm and the connection broke. Tyrone lied. He did remember that night three years ago. Based on my vision, he had been drinking and afraid of getting caught. It didn’t prove anything, of course, except that we just met our newest suspect.
The spirit of a woman materialized next to Tyrone. A small, dark woman, with a mother-like energy. She laid her hands on his shoulder and looked at me intently. I averted my gaze. Eye contact with a spirit was not good when you wanted to be left alone. But she spoke to me anyway.
“It wasn’t him.”
I ignored her.
She followed me to the door. “It wasn’t him!” she insisted. The tantrum built behind her eyes, and I knew we had to clear out fast. I let Badger pull me out the door. Looking back, the eyes of the woman reflected in the glass followed us out, but she stayed put.
I breathed a wobbly sigh of relief. The energy in the jewelry store had been heavy. More went on behind those closed doors than we knew.
I stumbled into Badger.
“Are you all right?” he asked, putting his arm around me.
“No. I-I don’t feel very well.”
He looked around and spotted a restaurant. “Come on.” He led me across the street and into a restaurant called Denny’s Diner. Once inside, he dropped me off at the ladies and said, “I’ll find a table. Will you be all right?”
I nodded and wobbled in. I splashed cold water on my face from the sink and felt better, although I was pale as Franny. Crap. I pinched my cheeks, trying to bring color back, but ended up with red splotchy cheeks.
I heaved a sigh.
I left the bathroom and carefully walked toward Badger, who occupied a corner booth. He actually stood up as I approached, like a gentleman would when a lady came into the room. Had he done that before? I didn’t think so.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Much better, thank you. Just a bit wobbly.”
“I ordered for us. I thought you’d want something mild, so I ordered soup.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
The restaurant was simple and clean. Booths lined the walls, with a row of tables lining the center. The aroma of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen tantalized my recovering stomach. My stomach growled.
Badger eyed me with concern. “What did you learn?”
I felt like Sherlock Holmes and Badger my Watson, familiar with my methods. Instead of deductions, I used touch.
“He lied. He does remember that night. He drove a blue car, quite wobbly and slow. Drunk, judging by what I saw.”
“Did it look like the same road as the accident?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
“But you didn’t see the accident or any other cars around?”
“I saw headlights coming up from behind, and then he quickly turned. He looked scared. He didn’t want anyone to see him.”
“So he’s not in the clear.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Our soup and bread came, with glasses of water.
“Coffee’s not good for an upset stomach,” said Badger. He knew me too well. I smiled. “Thanks Dad.” And I’m pretty sure my face went a shade paler. I hadn’t called anybody Dad in a long time, even in jest. I didn’t talk about him, didn’t refer to him, and didn’t let myself think about him. Only then did I realize how much Cappy and I had in common.
“Eat,” said Badger. “You need to recover from your hangover.”
I made a face at him. The awkward moment passed. And the warm soup helped.
“Oh. And his mother is hanging around,” I said.
“Who’s mother?”
“Sorry,” I said, swallowing a spoonful of soup. “Tyrone’s mother. She spoke to me. She said he didn’t do it. Twice. She wanted to be sure I understood.”
“What do you think she meant by that?”
I sipped my water. “She appeared right after the vision. I think she must have seen it, too.”
“That’s strange. How did she know what we were after?”
I shrugged. “She listened to our whole conversation. Maybe she saw the vision, same as me, and put two and two together.”
“So, just protective of her son?”
“Yes. But keep in mind, she could be lying.”
He shook his head. “That always amazes me that a ghost could be lying. I always imagined that they left that sort of earthly fault behind.”
“No. Not until they actually make it to heaven, I think.”
“Where everything’s perfect, right?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know - never actually been there. But presumably, yes.”
“Are you all right now?” he asked, scanning my face skeptically.
I nodded.
“Good. Then let’s see if we can find Tyrone’s car to add a few scrapings to our collection.”
We walked back across and then up the street without seeing a blue Chevy matching the description of Tyrone’s car.
“Let’s try the back,” said Badger.
We walked around the block and down an alley to where we spotted a parking lot. We spied Tyrone’s car, but a bored-looking attendant occupied the port-a-potty sized outbuilding, keeping watch on the cars.
“Well, what do we do?”
“Let me see you walk.”
“Huh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean, when do I ever…?”
He raised his eyebrows. We’d been assigned together often enough when I had to play a role.
“All right. Lower those eyebrows before you give yourself premature wrinkles.” I walked slowly about five feet and then turned around and walked back, trying to sashay a bit.
“That works if you’re Jessica Rabbit. Now how about something a bit more subtle?”
My cheeks flamed as I became aware of him watching my bubble butt strutting around. I turned and put my hands on my hips.
“Perfect.”
My cheeks flamed more.
“Now, if you just keep him occupied…”
“Leave it to me.” I strutted toward the attendant, thinking feverishly of what to say.
The attendant tipped his cap up as I approached. He ran his thumbs over his busy eyebrows and stepped outside.
“Excuse me,” I said, in my best American accent. “I’m new to the area and I’m hopelessly lost. I’m looking for…” I started digging in my purse for the non-existent address. I swirled the stuff in the bottom, and pretended I couldn’t find anything in it, what with all the make-up and girly stuff. In actuality, it was pretty much empty. I didn’t usually carry a purse except to complete the look. “I do apologize. I know it’s in here somewhere.” Without planning to, I used a helpless southern belle accent, and started to have fun with it.
The attendant, for his part, was very solicitous. “Here, why don’t you sit down? It might be easier.”
“Oh, thank you, kind sir. I’m not usually so unorganized, it’s just being in a strange country and all, you know it kind of unsettles me.” I actually batted my eyes at him. I set my purse on the stool he offered and bent over it. And yes, I did wiggle my wiles a bit. My cheeks flamed and I hoped to never see him again. More than that, I sent a prayer that Badger would be quick with the paint scrapings, because I ran out of ideas.
“Here it is,” I exclaimed, waving the piece of paper like a simpleton. “Wahlberg Jewelers, at one-six-one Jester Road.”