Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

“Well, this is lucky. This gentleman’s an old friend come by to see you.”

  Emmajean looked me up and down. “I don’t know that he’s an old friend, but he sure as hell can be a new one.”

  “Hello, Emmajean. I’m David Randall. The SHS sent me.”

  She made a face. “Oh, gosh. What do they want?”

  “They say you’re a little behind on your dues.”

  The other three women were leaning forward to listen. Emmajean took my arm. “Come on. We’ll talk in here.”

  She led me to an adjoining room. Three open doors revealing coffin-like tanning booths lined one wall. A worn beige sofa took up the other. “Now look, whoever you are. I came by to stretch out and relax in one of these booths and keep my nice summer tan. I don’t need any grief from that bunch of leotard-wearing wackos.”

  “No problem. I’m trying to get some information on the Parkland Avenger. I thought you might be able to help me.”

  She sat down on the sofa and put her shopping bags aside. “Oh, that’s another nut. What are you, a reporter?”

  “Private investigator.”

  Emmajean wasn’t impressed. “I can save you time and money. The cops’ll catch that idiot before long.”

  I sat down, too. “I’m a little confused. The SHS called you Virtue Vixen. If you feel this strongly against the group, why did you join in the first place?”

  “Well, to start off with, it was fun. We had a lot of laughs making up names and costumes. Then Dwayne—that’s Keltar, by the way—began all this crap about doing good deeds and bringing criminals to justice. Now they’re all too serious for me. So they sent you to collect my overdue dues?”

  “No, I wanted to talk to you.”

  “You’re talking.”

  “You’re no longer a member of the SHS?”

  “That’s right. No more will Virtue Vixen shine her light upon the unwary.”

  “And you have no idea who the Avenger might be?”

  “You met the gang. What do you think?”

  “None of them fit the description. And neither do you, although you seem to be in great shape.”

  “Thank you. I run, lift weights, and I’m on the gymnastics team at the Y.” She indicated the black bag. I saw “PGT” on the side in bold white letters. “Parkland Gymnastics Team.”

  “Just in case the call should go out for Virtue Vixen?”

  She grinned. “I’ll be ready. No, I’d never dress up and go running around the city at night. I’m not that stupid. Parkland’s not as bad as some big cities, but it’s still foolish for a woman—for anyone—to wander some of those streets after midnight.”

  “So you don’t think one of the SHS is taking this a little too seriously?”

  “They’re all talk and no action, believe me.” She stood up and brushed her hands on her skirt. “I’ve got to be at the Y in an hour, and I really need to spend some time in the tanning booth. I’d love to talk to you some more—as long as it’s not about superhero nonsense. I’m usually busy weeknights. The gym team is practicing for a meet on January 12. Saturdays are free, though. What’s your schedule like?”

  In my Before Kary days, I would’ve encouraged an attractive woman like Emmajean, but I was staying all business. “I’m pretty busy with my caseload, but if you hear anything else about the Avenger, give me a call.”

  ***

  Fred scowled at me when I came in the house. Now what did the old coot want?

  “What’s your problem?” I asked.

  “Who’s this new woman?”

  At first, I thought he meant Emmajean. “Have you suddenly become psychic, too?”

  “This new woman in the house, bustling around, always in the kitchen telling me what to do.”

  “Fred, that’s my mother, remember? She’s here for Christmas.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but Fred’s wizened features puckered further in. “Christmas? Damn it, there’s another reason to get rid of that useless holiday. Strange women in the house.”

  He kept muttering to himself as he walked up the stairs, passing Camden coming down. Camden was in his one and only gray suit, white shirt, and burgundy tie. I could tell he’d combed his hair, but it was already straying.

  “How come you’re all cleaned up?”

  “Kary has three tickets to the Parkland Ballet’s production of ‘The Nutcracker.’ Two of those little third graders she student taught are in it, so I told Sophia and Kary I’d escort them. I knew you were going to the auto club meeting tonight and probably wouldn’t want to go to the ballet, anyway.”

  “Your psychic powers continue to astound me.”

  “The ladies are getting ready. Could you give us a lift to the theater?”

  Camden doesn’t drive. He says there are too many psychic distractions, and seeing how some people drive in Parkland, I have to agree with him. “As long as I don’t have to go in.” I followed him to the kitchen. “Anything left for dinner?”

  “Yeah, there’s some chicken and mashed potatoes.”

  Two pieces of chicken were in the oven, wrapped in foil, alongside a baking dish half full of mashed potatoes and green peas. I got some tea out of the fridge and took my dinner to the counter. Camden opened a Coke and joined me.

  “So how’s everyone in the SHS?” he asked.

  “They’re all busting a gut to help me in my investigation.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “I think I convinced them to stay put. It’s quite a crew. There’s the Hook of Justice with his faithful harpoon, Keltar the Incredibly Gifted, a fairy named Free Form, and an Angie-sized woman who likes to call herself Destiny’s Arrow. My personal favorite is the Mad Shadow.”

  “Did he say why he was mad?”

  “I’m not even sure it’s a he.”

  “I don’t think they’ll get in your way. They like to play dress up, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  “Nobody knew the Avenger. Nobody looked like him, either.” I ate some potatoes. “E. Walter Winthrop would gladly strangle the SHS if he knew about them.”

  “Not too keen on superheroes?”

  “Not too keen on anything.”

  Mom and Kary came in, turning gracefully so we could get the full effect of their finery. Mom had on a sleek black dress with a leopard jacket, black heels, and loads of gold jewelry. Kary looked radiant in a royal blue dress that hugged her perfect figure. She’d put her gold hair up in some fancy bun and stuck some little jeweled pins all around. Her lipstick was a light rose pink, her perfume a sweet smell like honeysuckle. Chicken clogged in my throat. I almost said, “I’ll go with you.” Almost. I swallowed. “You two look fantastic.”

  Mom gave me an impish smile. “Sorry you can’t go.”

  “Gotta work tonight.”

  “Cam, dear, you look so nice. You should dress up more often.”

  “Thanks, Sophia, but this is it.”

  I checked my watch. “When do you need to be there?”

  Mom readjusted an earring. “We have about thirty minutes. Cam, do you have the tickets?”

  He patted his suit pocket. “Right here.”

  “Oh, you know, I think I’ll take my other pocketbook. I don’t need one this big. Be right back.”

  She went upstairs. Kary said something to me, but I was still so spellbound by her appearance, I had to ask her to repeat it.

  “I said the librarian made a copy of that little scrap you gave me. She thinks she may have a map that matches it, if we could stop in some time tomorrow.”

  I managed to say, “Sure. You look amazing. Did I tell you?”

  “Yes, you did, thanks. And we need to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “A serious talk. When I get back from the ballet.”


  You’re finally going to say yes! “All right.”

  I guess I would’ve continued to stare stupefied all night, but Mom returned with her pocketbook, and she and Kary decided to sit in the island to protect their outfits. Camden watched them go and then turned his gaze to me.

  “They’re getting along fine.”

  “Told you she always wanted a daughter.”

  “She knows how you feel about Kary.”

  I met his deep gaze. I could almost feel him strolling about in my brain, opening doors and looking through the cabinets.

  “You truly love her, and it’s changing you.”

  I didn’t get a chance to ask him if it was changing me for the better.

  It had to be.

  ***

  After dropping Mom, Kary, and Camden off at the Parkland Auditorium, I went over to Best Buys, a large used car lot. The members of the Auto Club had parked all their vintage and remodeled cars in the large area in front and stood around, talking shop. I admired a shiny red Chevy Corvette and a 1958 two-toned Ford Fairlane. I spoke with a man named Jeff Abilene.

  Jeff was a lanky fellow with a hound dog face. A huge ring of keys dragged at the pocket of his jeans. He regarded me sadly. “Still can’t believe what happened to Hunter. I heard the police think Boyd Taylor did it, but I can’t believe that, either.”

  “Taylor was interested in the Marlin, right?”

  “And as far I know Jared was going to sell it to him.”

  “Was there anyone in the club who didn’t get along with Jared? Maybe someone who wanted the car?”

  “Boyd was the only one who wanted it. As for Jared, everybody got along with him all right. Only time I saw him ever get riled was when somebody brought up something he’d done about a year ago. Something about getting caught breaking into a store, maybe. It was a sore point with him, ’cause he said that was over and done, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Said he’d been an idiot, and it ruined his chances of getting a decent job. Seems some of his buddies talked him into it and then backed out when things got serious.”

  Could this be why Alycia Ward called Jared chicken when she talked to him at Ben’s Garage? Was she trying to get him back into the gang? “So, as far as you know, that’s the extent of his life of crime?”

  “Yeah, said he’d never do anything that stupid again.”

  “Did he actually steal something?”

  “I don’t know. You think this has got something to do with his murder?”

  “That’s entirely possible.”

  “Do you know a woman named Alycia Ward?”

  “She came around a few times. She and Jared were friends.”

  I stayed around a couple of hours, admiring cars and talking to the men about Jared. All seemed sincerely sorry about his death and angry about the violent murder. Everyone said Boyd Taylor was not the murdering type. And no one had seen Alycia Ward.

  ***

  But I got to see Alycia Ward up close and personal.

  I returned to my office and was typing up my latest notes on the case when I heard an odd noise outside. I knew it wasn’t Fred because it was almost nine thirty and he went to bed at nine. I pulled back the curtain. A shadow detached itself from one of the large oak trees and moved toward my car. The light from the candy canes lining the front walk revealed a tall black woman slipping a piece of paper under the Fury’s windshield wiper.

  Enough with the threatening letters. I ran through the island and the kitchen to the back door and came around the corner of the house just as the woman stepped back from the car.

  “Alycia, wait!”

  She bolted, scattering gravel and leaves as she sprinted down Grace Street. She was fast, but I knew a few short cuts through the neighbors’ yards. I nearly tripped over some unexpected Santa in a sleigh and brought down a whole section of wreaths on someone’s fence, but caught up with her as she headed for the park. She abruptly halted and I ran right into her outstretched arm. Alycia must be made of iron. It was like running into a metal pole. I was staggered for a moment and managed to snag her ankle. She fell, and we rolled around a while before she finally gave up.

  “All right! All right! Get off of me!”

  I sat back, but I didn’t get off. “Will you calm down and listen? I’m trying to help you.”

  “You’re going to make things worse!”

  “Explain how that’s possible.”

  “I will if you’ll get off of me.”

  “I will if you won’t run away.”

  This grudging truce accepted, I got up and helped her to her feet. In the dim light from the streetlights, I could see Alycia Ward had a long lean athlete’s build. Her hair was short and curly, and her eyes were filled with apprehension.

  “Why send me those warning notes?”

  “Because if you found me, you’d turn me over to the police. They think I killed Jared.”

  “Did you?”

  “No!”

  “Where were you that night?”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “Stop thinking of me as the enemy. I want to find Jared’s killer, but I’m not working with the police.”

  She eyed me as if wondering if she could trust me. I must have looked sincere enough.

  “Here’s the problem. The night Jared was killed I was by myself in the Motel 6, so I don’t have any sort of alibi. The night before, I’d been over at his house, but we had a quarrel, and I left, otherwise I would’ve been there. The next thing I know, he’s been murdered, and I’m a suspect.”

  “Who hated Jared that much? What had he done?”

  “Nothing! There must be some nut case out there running around killing people. That’s another reason I’m scared. Just drop this whole thing, you hear me?”

  “Does this have to do with the museum break in? What do you know about that?”

  “A stupid prank. A mistake. I can’t see any connection there.”

  “When you came by Ben’s Garage, you called Jared a coward. What did you want him to do? Another stupid prank?”

  “Does that even matter now?”

  “It might. What did you quarrel about?”

  “Our usual problem. He never really wanted to take any chances, and I was all about having adventures. If we’d been in a comic, we would’ve been Spontaneous Girl and Caution Boy.”

  “What about his comics? Worth anything?”

  “Not really.”

  “There was a piece of a map in one of them. What’s that all about?”

  At the mention of the map, she closed off. “I have no idea.”

  “Since you’re a woman who likes adventures, were you at the museum that night with Jared? Was Bert Galvin in on this little caper?”

  She backed away. “I need to stay hidden, and you need to quit looking for me. You found me, okay? Now leave me alone.”

  “You said you were scared. Are you afraid Jared’s killer is looking for you?” Her hesitation was all the answer I needed. “Alycia, I’ve got a friend on the police force. He’ll hear your side of the story. If you need protection, he can protect you.”

  “By locking me up? I don’t think so.”

  “Then come to Camden’s house. It’s a safe place. You can stay there while we figure this out.”

  I might have convinced her, but a squad car came down the street, and her face hardened. “You bastard!”

  “I didn’t call the cops,” I said, but I was talking to empty air. Alycia disappeared into the darkness of the park. The squad car pulled up to me. The window slid down, and Jordan stuck out his head.

  “You taking an evening stroll?”

  He hadn’t seen Alycia. I swung my arms and stretched. “Yeah, just needed to clear my head.”

 
“Well, lock your doors next time. I stopped by to see how Cam was doing, and the whole place is wide open. Only thing I heard was Fred snoring like a bandsaw. Where is everybody?”

  “Camden, Kary, and my mother went to see ‘The Nutcracker.’”

  He gave me a closer look. “How come you’re out here without a jacket?”

  “Just a short stroll. I was on my way back.”

  “Any leads on Alycia Ward?”

  I’d told Jordan I’d let him know if Camden had any contact with Alycia. Well, Camden hadn’t. I had. And Jordan was being so ornery about this case, I wasn’t in the mood to share any info. Not yet.

  “No.” If he could tell I was lying, I didn’t care. I could be just as uncooperative as he was.

  He gave me another long look, rolled up his window, and drove away.

  ***

  Around eleven, I went back to the Parkland Civic auditorium and picked up Mom, Kary, and Camden. As much as I wanted to tell Camden about my close encounter with Alycia, I was more anxious to hear what Kary wanted to talk to me about.

  Mom was beaming. “What a wonderful show. You would’ve enjoyed it.”

  Kary showed me a program. “My students did such a good job.”

  “Glad you liked it. Now about that talk.”

  “Let’s step out on the porch.”

  The night air was chilly, so I grabbed my jacket from the hall tree. Kary still had on her coat. Up and down Grace Street, Christmas lights twinkled from porches and rooftops, and Christmas trees sparkled from windows. A neighbor had synchronized his lights with music, so a frantic version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” was flashing all the bushes and lawn ornaments in his yard. Across the street, another neighbor’s plastic Nativity scene glowed, one Wise Man leaning against another and the sheep upside down.

  Kary folded her arms. She didn’t look like she was going to say, “Yes, I’ll marry you. It has been my goal in life to become Mrs. David Randall.” I was in for a serious lecture.

  “David, you have got to understand something. I am not going to be the Velma of the Randall Detective Agency.”

  “Velma?”

  “From ‘Scooby Doo’? The girl with the glasses? The one who does all the research and has all the answers?”