Secret Sisters

by Tristi Pinkston

  “All right, Arlette,” came Donna’s voice.

  Ida Mae knew it would take Donna at least two minutes to remind herself how the camera worked. She gave Ren a thumbs-up, and he slunk over to the computer.

  “Arlette, did I tell you about my new grandbaby?” Donna’s voice had a strident quality to it that in the past had always driven Ida Mae just a little insane, but today she counted it a blessing. She would be able to tell exactly where they were in the picture-taking process as long as Donna kept talking.

  Ren tapped something on the keyboard, then grunted. “There’s a password,” he whispered.

  “It’s got to be something simple,” Ida Mae whispered back. “Donna isn’t terribly deep.” A flash of guilt made her wonder if she really should have said that, but it was too late now. She’d have to add it to her list of things to repent of, and somehow she figured that trying to hack into the DMV computer was a little more serious than calling someone a name.

  “There we are!” Donna proclaimed. “You look lovely.”

  “No, I don’t,” Arlette replied. “This piece of hair is sticking up.”

  “Well, there’s a mirror. Why don’t you fix it and then we can take another shot.”

  Ren stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth, just like he used to do when he was a little boy and couldn’t get his shoelaces tied.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Just then, Tansy started to cough, the pre-arranged signal that someone was coming. Ida Mae darted behind the counter with Ren and they both ducked. Around the edge of the counter, Ida Mae could see the sheriff walk past the building, his belt bulging with handcuffs, a nightstick, and the evidence of too many donuts. She didn’t know whose idea it had been to make the entire front of the building a series of windows, but it wasn’t helping her cause any.

  After Ricky passed, she and Ren stood back up.

  “Are you ready?” Donna asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Now, let’s see here.” Another two minutes for Donna to use the camera. They’d bought some time, but not much.

  “Try her birthday,” Ida Mae whispered.

  “I don’t know her birthday,” Ren said.

  “April twenty-ninth.”

  Ren turned to her with surprise on his face. “How on earth did you know that?”

  “I’m the Relief Society president. I know everything.”

  Ren keyed in the date, but it didn’t work. He tried month and day, then 4-29, and 4-2-9. No matter what he did, the screen wouldn’t change.

  “Now I look like a plucked hen,” Arlette said. “Maybe I could pose a little differently, like a three-quarter profile or something.”

  “They really want a shot from the front,” Donna explained. “They want to be able to see as much of you as possible.”

  “If I get pulled over, I could pose the same way I am in the picture,” Arlette suggested.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s try one more,” Donna said.

  Tansy coughed, and Ida Mae and Ren dropped.

  “Oh, no,” Ida Mae whispered. “It’s Bertha, and she’s coming in.” She wanted to bury her face in her hands, but like Utah drivers passing the scene of an accident, she had to stare.

  Tansy greeted Bertha cheerfully, waving her arms around like some caffeinated mime. Bertha smiled and pulled out her wallet, showing Tansy what could only be pictures of her grandchildren.

  “Smart girl,” Ida Mae murmured, wondering why she never seemed to give Tansy enough credit. That maneuver alone would keep Bertha tied up for at least five minutes.

  Ren rose halfway, just enough to reach the keyboard, and kept entering whatever words Ida Mae could think of.

  “I’m sorry, Arlette, but sometimes that camera just won’t spit out a decent picture,” Donna said, and Ida Mae realized her voice was coming from the hall, not the back. She grabbed Ren’s collar and yanked him down just as Donna entered the room, talking over her shoulder to Arlette. “We could try all afternoon and still not be happy with the results. But think of it this way—no one really likes their driver’s license picture, do they?”

  “But that’s them. I’m talking about me,” Arlette explained.

  Ida Mae crawled forward two feet and caught Arlette’s eye as she entered the room. Arlette blinked, then nodded.

  “Tell me about this ficus tree in the corner,” she said, taking Donna’s elbow and steering her away from the counter.

  Ren and Ida Mae began to crawl, inching their way out from behind the counter and toward the door.

  “Well, it’s just plastic, really. We got it at Walmart.”

  “I don’t remember seeing it the last time I was here,” Arlette said.

  “We only got it last month, I think it was. Or maybe the month before . . . it was right after Heathcliff Jones renewed his license. I remember that because he told us our office looked a little drab, and he suggested a plant. Bertha and I headed right down that very night and got this ficus.”

  Ida Mae wasn’t making very much progress. Ren was already at the door and glanced back over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrows, but she was already doing the best she could. Her knees just couldn’t take this kind of pressure. For a second, she wondered about reversing course and trying to get back to the counter, but Bertha was starting to turn.

  Everything went into slow motion.

  Bertha turned.

  Tansy grabbed her elbow and said something with a great deal of animation, hanging on for dear life.

  Ren made it the rest of the way to the door and slipped out, coming to his feet as he did so.

  Ida Mae inched another foot, clearing the counter area and yet not quite making it to the door.

  Donna turned and took a step toward the counter . . . and saw Ida Mae.

  “Why, Ida Mae! What on earth are you doing on the floor?”

  There comes a time in every woman’s life when she’s asked a question that could possibly incriminate her. For some, it’s, “Does this make me look fat?” or “Do you think Ralph is cheating on me?” For others, it’s, “Did you eat the last brownie?” Ida Mae wished for one of those questions. She’d be more than happy to face the fire. Instead, she mustered up her courage and every acting skill she’d learned from Ginger Rogers over the years and said, “I dropped a contact lens.”

  Donna was at her side in a flash, which was funny, considering she’d just taken several pictures. Ida Mae knew she had to get a grip on herself, and soon, or she’d start into a high-blown fit of hysterical laughter that would probably last until well after they got her safely buckled into her straight jacket. Arlette joined them on the floor, and they dutifully scoured every inch of the tile looking for the lens.

  “I must have lost it at home or in the car,” Ida Mae said at last, coming to her feet.

  “I didn’t know you wore contact lenses,” Donna said, scooting the chairs back from their pulled-out-to-be-looked-under positions.

  “That’s right!” Ida Mae brought her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t!”

  She ducked out of the building as fast as she could, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the newly befuddled Donna and herself. Tansy let go of Bertha’s arm, Ren joined them around the corner of the building, and Arlette came a moment later. They collapsed in the van, all breathing heavily.

  “How’d it go?” Tansy asked after several long seconds.

  “We weren’t able to get into the computer,” Ida Mae said. “There was a password.”

  “Edgar,” Tansy said.

  “What?” Ren turned and looked at her.

  “Bertha told me. The password on the computer is Edgar. It’s the name of Donna’s new baby grandson.”

  “Did you ask, or did she tell you that?” Arlette asked.

  “She just told me. Really, someone ought to explain to her how dangerous that is.”

  All went quiet while they processed the information.

  “Should
we go back in?” Ren asked.

  “Not on your life!” Arlette replied. “That was worse than almost anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  Ida Mae didn’t say anything, but internally, she’d never agreed with Arlette more.

  Arlette put the keys in the ignition and started the engine. They were halfway home before Ren voiced what Ida Mae was sure they’d all been thinking.

  “Who names a baby Edgar?”

  *

  The phone rang at seven thirty the next morning—an irritating wake-up call right by Ida Mae’s head. “County morgue,” she mumbled into the receiver. “Which dead person do you want to talk to?”

  Arlette ignored her. “My granddaughter has come to stay with me for a few weeks. I told her what we’re doing with the Dunns. She thinks it’s despicable and wants to help.”

  Ida Mae blinked. “She thinks it’s despicable, but she still wants to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Bring her around this afternoon and we’ll fill her in. Was this your surprise?”

  “Yes. When we decided we needed someone to work at the warehouse, she was the first person to come to mind.”

  “Sounds good. Bring her over at three, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ida Mae checked her calendar, amazed to see there was nothing written on it. Everything she’d been doing lately had come up so fast, she hadn’t had time to write it down. She’d only had time to fly out the door and react.

  She ran a load of dishes and folded some laundry, feeling blessed to have the time. In days past, she wouldn’t do a single other thing until all her housework was done, but she hadn’t had that luxury in years. Truth be told, she sort of liked putting off her work until later. It made her feel just a tiny bit rebellious.

  The doorbell rang smack on the nose of three. She opened the door to find Tansy, Arlette, and a pretty brunette girl standing on her porch.

  “Come in,” she said, hastening to unlatch the screen. “It’s cold out there.”

  The women entered and pulled off coats and gloves, then settled down onto the living room couches. Ida Mae glanced at the clock, although she knew what time it was. Ren got off work at two thirty—she thought he’d be home by now.

  “Ida Mae, this is my granddaughter, Eden,” Arlette said, motioning with an orange-swathed knitting needle. “She’s a detective.”

  “Well, not really,” Eden said, her voice a little husky. Ida Mae thought she had a frog in her throat, but as the girl talked, Ida Mae realized it was her natural voice. She liked it—it wasn’t too girly. “I’m actually a journalist who wants to write detective novels, but I love snooping out a good mystery in real life. Gives me a lot of material to use later.”

  “I just knew someone would want to write a book about us,” Tansy said, a broad smile lighting her face.

  “You haven’t had any murders in this case, have you?” Eden asked.

  “No, thank goodness,” Ida Mae told her.

  “Well, I’m mostly interested in murder stories, so I probably won’t be writing this one. I’m sure someone will someday, though.”

  Tansy seemed somewhat mollified, although still disappointed.

  The ladies spent the next few minutes bringing Eden up-to-date on everything that had happened. She seemed to appreciate the significance of the Wendy’s wrapper, and that was a big load off Ida Mae’s mind.

  “Have you shared all this with the police?” Eden asked.

  “We’ve tried talking to the police, but they say until we get some actual, concrete proof, they can’t do anything to help us,” Ida Mae told her. “They think we’re just being silly.”

  “Nonsense,” Eden said, studying the chart in front of her. “There’s definitely something going on. You’ve got people acting out of character all over the place here. Mary, who is usually the best mother in the world, is worried about asking for assistance to keep her kids fed. Nick, who is usually a doting father and husband, is distant and withdrawn. Something’s up.”

  “You got all that from this list?” Ida Mae asked. Maybe her charting skills weren’t as hopeless as she thought.

  “And from listening to everything you’ve said about the case,” Eden said. “There’s a lot of stuff you haven’t written down. What are the people involved like? When did they start behaving in an odd way? Write that down too. It’s all linked together.”

  “Smart girl,” Tansy said approvingly, and Ida Mae nodded her agreement. Arlette was silent, but had a smug look on her face. Yes, Ida Mae had to admit, Arlette’s idea had been a good one.

  Ren came in a few minutes later, his arms full of bags and boxes. “Hey, Secret Sisters,” he called out from the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “My nephew,” Ida Mae explained to Eden as Ren came around the corner, having dumped most of his load onto the kitchen table. His ponytail had come loose at some point, causing his hair to stick out at odd angles. He had a big smear of grease across his shirt, and he didn’t look very respectable. Ida Mae nearly chastised herself for having the thought, but then stopped. This was an accurate assessment—she would allow it.

  Eden looked him over with a bemused look on her face. “I’m told you’re the nephew.”

  Ren stuck out his hand, noticed it wasn’t clean, and withdrew it. “I haven’t been told what you are yet.”

  “I’m Eden, Arlette’s granddaughter. I understand I’m to apply for work at the warehouse. You know, be someone on the inside.”

  “You’re going to help us?”

  Ida Mae inwardly smiled at the surprised look on Ren’s face. It took a lot to ruffle the boy, but now, if he were any more ruffled, he’d be a potato chip.

  “Is that all right with you?”

  “Sure. I mean, if you want to.”

  “Oh, I do,” Eden returned.

  “Great. I say we call it Operation Green Jell-O.”

  The two continued to size each other up good-naturedly, only calling an end to the verbal ping-pong when Tansy asked what was in all the bags Ren had brought home.

  “Supplies,” he said. “Wire, tape, hooks—all the stuff I’ll need to make the trip wire and hang the camera from the tree.”

  “Cool,” Eden said, coming to her feet. “Can I see?”

  “Me too?” Tansy asked.

  The group moved into the kitchen, where Ren spread out his plunder. “Some of this I got out at the scrapyard, and some I got at the hardware store,” he explained. “I found the camera at a pawn shop.”

  “Very frugal,” Arlette said approvingly. “Does it work?”

  “Seems to.” Ren went through each component, explaining the reasons for them.

  “And this?” Eden asked, holding up a roll of duct tape.

  “That is the magic that brings it all together. You can fix anything with duct tape, you know.”

  “So, what’s the plan now?” Tansy asked.

  “We need to get this camera into position. I think tonight would be best. Then tomorrow, Eden should go into the warehouse and see if she can get a job.”

  “I type ninety-five words a minute,” Eden said, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic gesture. “What’s not to hire?”

  The group dispersed to their assignments. Ida Mae, Ren, and Eden would go out to the house that night and set up the camera. Tansy would go to the Eyres’ house and stay the night so Hannah could sleep, and Arlette would do the same the following night.

  “The McGuffey girls are coming over tomorrow to help Hannah with the boys while she cleans the apartment for Rose,” Ida Mae reported, and everyone nodded. Hopefully everything was under control. Ida Mae tried to push her other worries to the back of her mind. Sufficient to the day are the tasks of the Relief Society, and she shouldn’t worry about tomorrow while she was still working on today.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ren parked his car in the accustomed clearing, and Ida Mae pulled her black coat more closely around her. She
had finally given in to the suggestion that they wear dark clothing. She did, however, draw the line at putting grease paint under her eyes. She didn’t think the possible benefits were enough to justify the mess.

  Eden held Ren’s tool bag, and he carried the camera equipment. Ida Mae was on hot chocolate duty, bringing up the rear with a large thermos. They moved slowly through the trees, able to pick out their path by the light of the half-moon reflected on the snow. Ida Mae had always loved the way it never really got dark in winter—the snow took on a luminescent quality that kept the darkness at bay.

  The Dunns’ shed loomed before them, and Ren held up his hand. They stopped walking as Ren crouched, pulling some wires out of his pocket. He glanced around, then motioned for Ida Mae to come closer.

  “Duct tape,” he whispered, and she reached into her fanny pack to retrieve it. She winced as she did so—who on earth had thought up the name “fanny pack”? What was wrong with something a little more appropriate, like, “waist purse” or “hands-free pouch” or “clip-on bag”? She handed over the tape, and he slid the roll onto his wrist like a bracelet.

  Eden handed him a screwdriver, and he crept closer to the edge of the Dunns’ property. Selecting a tree, he placed the camera on a branch, securing it with tape. Then he screwed in some wires. Ida Mae wished she were a little more technologically savvy so she could understand what he was doing.

  After he got the camera in place, he took some strips of brown cloth and used them to camouflage the slight shine of the tape.

  “Good thinking,” Eden whispered, and Ren smiled.

  One of the long wires was brought down the length of the branch and stretched across to the outreaching limb of the next tree. Ren extended the wire three trees down from the camera and fastened it at every junction with the duct tape, fiddling with tools and gadgets and weird-looking gizmos all along the way. Ida Mae made herself useful by dispensing the hot chocolate after the first fifteen minutes had gone by—she couldn’t feel her nose at all, it was so numb. Eden sipped gratefully as well, but Ren was in a groove and shouldn’t be disturbed until the task was finished.