Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

  “What about that car? You don’t see Marlins every day. Maybe somebody wanted it.”

  “But it’s still in the garage. If he was murdered for the car, wouldn’t it be gone?” Camden refolded the picture. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  I’d parked across the street, and as we approached the car, I saw a piece of paper fluttering under one of the windshield wipers. “Don’t tell me I’ve got a ticket. I thought parking was free on this street.”

  The piece of paper wasn’t a ticket. It was a warning written in sharp black letters.

  “I know you’re looking for me. Leave me alone or you’ll be sorry.”

  I didn’t have to let Camden touch the paper to know this was from Alycia Ward.

  “First Jordan and now Alycia. I’m a popular guy. You getting anything?”

  He held the paper and looked around. “There are a million places she could hide.”

  “What about her old neighborhood? Would Tor know?”

  We went back into the comic shop. Tor seemed to recall that Alycia lived in the Timberlake subdivision in Parkland’s east side. Camden and I drove over to have a look.

  Like most places in Parkland, Timberlake was misnamed. There was no lake and a shocking lack of timber. The houses were neat if unremarkable. Most of them were decorated for Christmas. We saw inflatable Santas and snowmen families waving from lawns and rooftops, bushes and trees draped with colored lights, and fancy wreaths on doors and mailboxes.

  A group of women waited at the corner bus stop. Camden rolled down his window and asked if anyone knew the Ward family.

  One of the older women pointed up the street. “Used to be some Wards that lived up on Forest Lane. That’s the only ones I know. They moved away years ago.”

  Camden thanked her and we drove all the way up and down Forest Lane until he shook his head. “If her family isn’t here anymore, she wouldn’t have a place to go.”

  “And if she’s involved with murder, they might not take her in.” I turned the car around. “So why is she still in town? If she had anything to do with Jared’s death, you’d think she’d get as far away as possible. And why warn me off?”

  Camden looked down at the two pieces of paper, Tor’s sketch of Jared and Alycia’s note. “I don’t know, Randall. I just don’t know.”

  ***

  We swung back by the auditorium and picked up Mom and Kary. They had their hands full of shopping bags and brightly colored feather boas around their necks.

  “Aren’t these wild, Davey? We just had to have them. And I found the perfect pillow for your Aunt Thomasina’s sofa. You know how particular she is. She’ll love it. And your cousin Louie will love this tie. Look, dice and playing cards. That’s Louie, isn’t it?”

  Kary held up one of the shopping bags. “Wait till you see what Sophia bought for me.”

  Oh, my lord, I thought. There is no telling what’s in that bag. And here I thought my mother would be a good influence on Kary.

  “And we got the cutest shoes. We’ll model them when we get home.”

  At home, my worst fears were realized. Sophia’s gift for Kary was a leopard print blouse. The shoes were what my second wife Anita referred to as go to hell high heels, fire engine red with black straps. Mom and Kary strutted around the blue arm chair and green sofa as if they were on the catwalk, flipping the boas. All we needed was a pole.

  “Wow,” Camden said, which I thought was a masterful understatement.

  “Let me go put on my new blouse,” Kary said. “Back in a minute.”

  Mom unwound her boa and put it over the sofa where Cindy immediately attacked it. “We bought some supplies to make cookies, too. You won’t mind if I take over your kitchen, would you, Cam?”

  “Please do.”

  She went around the corner. I rescued the boa before we had shredded feathers everywhere. “Thank God she’s going to make cookies. I thought my entire mother was gone.”

  “You need to chill,” Camden said. “She’s just having fun.”

  “Fun? Now she’s got Kary doing it.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Acting like—well, you saw them. How would you like it if Ellin was dancing around in high heels and a feather boa?”

  “Aside from the fact it would be the end of the world as we know it, I’d like it very much.”

  I thought I was calm until Kary came back in her new blouse, which revealed more than I was ready for. I pointed out a potential problem. “Your button’s undone.”

  She glanced down. “It’s supposed to be like this.”

  “Well, then, it’s,” I groped for the right word, “Impressive.”

  “Thank you. Your mother has excellent taste.”

  Kary went into the kitchen to help Mom with the cookies, and I went into my office to give myself a talking to. Mom and Kary both looked fantastic. Why couldn’t I relax and enjoy their transformations?

  After a while, I heard them laughing. I wandered into the kitchen to see what was so funny. The counter was covered with flour and dough. Two cookie sheets were full of Christmas cookies: trees, stars, bells, and Santas.

  Kary was washing her hands. “David, your mother’s told me all about how you were as a little boy.”

  “No wonder you’re in hysterics.” I chewed a bit of left over cookie dough. “When will these be ready to eat?”

  “In about ten minutes.” She dried her hands. “Sophia, I’m going to practice a little.”

  “Go right ahead, dear.”

  Kary went to the piano and began to play some Christmas tunes. Mom gave me a glance I couldn’t quite interpret.

  “All right, Davey, what’s going on? I see how you look at Kary.”

  “That’s one of things I wanted to talk to you about.” Might as well come to the point. “I’m in love with her.”

  She gave me a long stare. “You’re serious.”

  “For the first time in my life.”

  “Well,” she said. “Well.”

  “I know it’s crazy.”

  Mom looked toward the island. She looked at Cindy’s well-chewed cat toys, the scattered newspapers, books, the television, the furniture, as if looking for clues to the mystery. She finally looked at me.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out since I met her.”

  Another long view of the room. “How old is she?”

  “I know she looks young, Mom, but there’s only six years difference.”

  This brought her gaze to my face. “David.”

  “Bogart was forty-five when he married nineteen year old Bacall.”

  “David, honestly.”

  I heard the dismay in her voice. “This is the one. I promise. Kary is the one I’ve been looking for.”

  “You said that about Barbara. You said that about Anita, too.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “This house,” she said. “These people. What exactly are you doing here?”

  “I’m doing what I want to do. I’m finding things.”

  Her mouth trembled slightly and she pressed her fingers against it. Then she said, “David, you must forgive yourself. You did all you could.”

  For a moment I could see Lindsey’s sweet forgiving smile. I’d had that wonderful dream in which I knew she didn’t blame me, but it was still difficult not to blame myself.

  “When did you last talk to Barbara?” Mom asked.

  “At Lindsey’s funeral.”

  “David, that was years ago.”

  “She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Mom leaned back against the counter. “I had no idea things were this bad.”
>
  “It isn’t bad. I’m getting along just fine.”

  “What, here? But what kind of life is this, hunting for some lost jewelry and wanting to marry for a third time to a woman who needs to have her own life, not get all caught up in yours. Honestly, if your father were here—”

  “He’d be proud of me.”

  She stopped to consider this. “Yes, he would, the old hound. He’d find all this immensely romantic. A detective, a beautiful woman, psychic overtones. Such interesting friends you have, dear. By the way, Cam seems a bit peaked. Is he coming down with something?”

  “Camden’s naturally pale, Mom, and he’s having girl troubles.” I paused a moment. “You’ve been talking to Kary. Did she say I was a dirty old man and she couldn’t stand my drooling advances?”

  “No, she wanted to know what you were like when you were little.”

  “You didn’t tell her the Mickey Mouse story, did you?”

  “Well, it’s priceless. I should’ve sent it in to Reader’s Digest.”

  “Mom.”

  “And don’t get me off the subject. The last thing you need in your life is another relationship.”

  “I guess I could say the same thing to you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  It had slipped out, and now I had to go on. “I’m talking about Grady. How serious are you about him?”

  “David Henry Randall, I cannot believe you are putting my friendship with Grady Sipe on the same level as your latest fling.”

  “Well?” I said. “How serious are you?”

  “I’m not serious at all! We’re having fun. And the fact that we’re sleeping together is none of your business.”

  That brought up a mental picture that seared the inner lining of my brain. “Mom, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. You think the sex drive turns off at fifty? Sixty? I’m still a very attractive woman.”

  “Yes, you are, but—”

  “Let me finish. I could have any man I wanted in Bay Ridge Apartments. I like Grady’s company because he treats me like a lady. We have a lot in common. I’m not going to stop seeing him just because it makes you uncomfortable to think of your mother as a sexual being.”

  “Gah! Stop! Okay, I’m sorry. Quit talking like that.”

  She grinned. I’d always been told I look like my dad, but that grin was pure me. “Your father was not the only one who enjoyed himself, Davey.”

  “Mom, please.”

  “Oh, the whole time we were married, I was faithful to him, despite all his little flirtations and carrying on. I loved him very much. I forgave him very much.” She paused for a moment. I couldn’t even guess what she was feeling. During my younger years, they were always laughing and teasing. I really never knew all the complications of their relationship. “When he died, what amazed me the most was the way the world kept going, as if nothing had happened, and I guess in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing.” She paused again, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “I was the one who didn’t want to go on, but eventually, I did. I moved away from all those memories, all that cold Minnesota weather, to Florida to be near your Aunt Thomasina. You remember what I told you? ‘It doesn’t matter where I move. I’ll never be warm again.’ But I’m thawing out, Davey, and Grady is helping me.” She put her hand on mine. “He’ll never replace your father. No one will. But he’s bringing me out of the cold.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. “You know I want you to be happy.”

  “Good. I’m setting you an example of how you ought to be.”

  “But I am happy.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to. I know you better than anyone, and you are not going to have another dismal Christmas.”

  “I hadn’t planned on a dismal Christmas, and by the way, it’s a little hard to remember who I’m talking to when you look so different.”

  “Unlike a certain son of mine, I decided not to get stuck in a rut.” She ruffled her new hair. “It’s amazing what a change of style can do. I am movin’ on, honey, and you should, too.” Before I could say anything else, she said, “Now, about Kary. What do her folks say about you?”

  “Her mother and father haven’t spoken to her in years. When she got pregnant, they threw her out. I think it’s against their religion to be forgiving.”

  “Are you telling me she has a baby?”

  “No, she lost it, and now she can’t have children.”

  “My heavens.”

  I knew that look. Kary was about to become a Project. “She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “I’m not going to pry, Davey, but what do you mean, her parents threw her out? Do they live in town?”

  “We could see them right now if you want to. They host a never-ending Bible Hour on Church TV.”

  “They’re televangelists?”

  “Yep. Too saintly for me.”

  “And they’ve disowned their beautiful daughter. How saintly is that?”

  “I don’t even try to understand it.”

  “Cam doesn’t have parents, either. How did you end up in this orphanage?”

  “Lost causes, Mom.”

  She smiled. My dad had made a living listening to lost causes in his bar. Often he’d come home and plop a big bag of money on the kitchen table and say, “Here’s to lost causes, may they never be found.” “Have you inherited your father’s Listening Face?”

  “Sometimes I feel it slipping on.”

  “Is that why you insist on keeping this detective agency?”

  “I’m doing some good.”

  “When’s the last time you talked to anyone about Lindsey?”

  I could almost hear the clang of an iron door as I shut myself against the emotion. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, I think it is. That’s one reason I agreed to come visit this Christmas. You and I need to talk.”

  “Not now.”

  “When?”

  Not ever. “I don’t know. Just not now.”

  She gave me a long considering look. “Well, then, let’s see about getting some dinner started.”

  Chapter Six

  “But Thou Didst Not Leave His Soul in Hell”

  Mom and Kary had also bought supplies for Mom’s special meat loaf, mixed bean salad, and cornbread. I was helping Camden set the table when Brooke Verner came in with a suitcase and went upstairs.

  I couldn’t believe it. “Excuse me, but is Ms. Verner moving in?”

  Camden looked guilty. “Well, I thought about it some more, and since Rufus and Angie won’t be back until after New Year’s—”

  I set the last knife down with a clank. “Oh, this is just great. Why in the hell didn’t you tell her no?”

  “But it’s Christmas.”

  “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for that harpy.” I knew he did. It doesn’t take much of a sob story, and I’m sure Brooke had a beaut. “Damn it, why do you keep attracting these warrior women? I need peace in my life.”

  “It’s only for the holidays.”

  “It won’t end. We’ll be stuck with her forever.”

  “She said she’d be out by the end of the month.”

  “Just because you spent every Christmas in a Dumpster doesn’t give you the right to foist this harridan on me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “‘Foist’ and ‘harridan’?”

  “I’ve been practicing.”

  “Having women chase you never bothered you before.”

  “That was B.K. Before Kary.”

  “Brooke won’t be in the way. She needs a place to sleep at night, that’s all.”

  “And have you thought of Brooke plus Ellin? You might as well declare our peaceful
island living room a nuclear testing site.”

  “Let’s just get through dinner, okay?”

  Ellin arrived as Brooke came back downstairs. Camden made all the introductions.

  “Brooke, this is Randall’s mother, Sophia, visiting us from Florida. This is Fred Mullins, and Kary Ingram, who live here with me, and I believe you’ve met Ellin Belton. Everyone, this is Brooke Verner. She works for the Herald. She’ll be staying here for the holidays.”

  Someone had taken Evil Brooke away and replaced her with a kindly clone who smiled pleasantly. “It’s a pleasure to meet everyone, and thank you for sharing your home.”

  We all sat down at the dining room table. As I expected, Mom’s meat loaf and cornbread went over well with the crowd. Even old Fred couldn’t find anything to gripe about. Everyone was so nice and polite, I thought I’d stumbled into an episode of Masterpiece Theater. Occasionally, Brooke would catch my eye and give me a grin as if to say, isn’t this cozy?, but the rest of the time she behaved as if she were the star pupil at Miss Proper’s Boarding School for Young Ladies.

  Talk centered around Mom and how she liked Parkland.

  “It’s a wonderful city. So much to do! And such nice weather, too. In Florida, I miss the seasons, but I certainly don’t miss those awful Minnesota winters, although it was always nice to have snow for Christmas. Do you ever have a white Christmas here?”

  Ellin passed the salad bowl to Kary. “Every now and then. I can remember two or three.”

  Kary took some salad and passed the bowl to me. “You remember I did some student teaching in a third grade class? Well, we saw some of those kids at the crafts fair. They were giving a gymnastics demonstration.”

  Mom laughed. “You should have seen those little girls cart wheeling and turning flips. They were wonderful.”

  “They said they had a big meet coming up next week, and Sophia and I would like to go, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were for you and your mom.”

  “I don’t really have anything special planned,” I said. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

  “You’ll have to come see the Psychic Service Network,” Ellin said. “We’re taping our Christmas specials, and we have a fascinating woman who can predict the weather for any holiday you can name. She calls herself Meteora.”