She took a few more steps, watching her feet glumly. “I don't know how you people walk in these things.” She sighed and turned back to the mirror. “Nope. I can't do it. I can't let him see me like this.” She reached to pull the pin from her hat.
“You know who you kind of look like? Anne.”
At the sudden flare of her nostrils, I said, “I mean, like Anne's younger sister. Or daughter.”
She cocked her head.
“I'm just saying, if Nigel is into the demure type—”
“Demure, but with hidden treasures only he can see.”
“Right, hidden treasures only he can see—then you've nailed it. One hundred percent.” I stood behind her in the mirror. “See, it's all about the hidden mystery, right? The enticing temptress under the angel facade.”
She studied her reflection some more. “Enticing,” she said. She tucked her chin and gave herself come hither eyes.
“Exactly.”
She took a deep breath, then sighed and picked up a big tapestry bag with two knitting needles sticking out of it. “Okay, fine. It's worth a shot. Nigel and Anne play miniature golf out on the east side of the campus. Let's just take a walk out there and run this up the flagpole. See if he has anything left to salute.”
We made for the door before she froze and said, “Wait!” She fished through the bag—which had no yarn for knitting, I noticed—and found a lipstick. “There's no sense in going completely mad.” She applied the lipstick, made a duck face in the mirror, and then slipped the lipstick into her cardigan pocket. She checked her watch. “Crikey! Okay, let's move. I want to be in place before they come by.”
I tagged along after her. “So, what are we doing now, anyway? Are we impressing him with your miniature golf skills?”
Viv looked at me like I was an idiot. “No. They have to pass the Baucum Local Hero memorial thingamajig, so we're going to be standing there, pensively studying the names when they walk by. Then I'm going to work in a little factoid I learned last night while I was doing research for this getup.”
I raised an eyebrow as the elevator dinged. “What factoid?”
“One of the honorees after Baucum was a WASP pilot! Can you believe that?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea how shocked I'm supposed to be at this. What's a WASP pilot?”
“Women's Airforce Service Pilots. They flew the planes to the service men during World War II. One of them moved here after the war and became a Baucum Local Hero.” Viv clapped her hands together. “What a stroke of luck for me! Now I can impress Nigel with my patriotic knowledge. England had their own branch called the WAAFs. Don't tell him I said this, but this is one time when the American word is better than the British word.”
“My lips are sealed,” I promised. “Is that what she got the award for, being a WASP?”
“No, it was...” She flapped a hand. “Teaching poor kids to read, or feeding homeless people. Cleaning up a park, maybe. One of those selfless things.”
“Those are all kind of different selfless things,” I pointed out.
The elevator stopped, and the door slid open. Viv strolled out. “Well, I read a bunch of profiles last night and they all kind of ran together after a while.” She checked her lipstick and the sprig of holly on her hat as we walked by the big mirror near the back door. She hitched up her skirt and adjusted the lace collar.
I was glad to get the chance to see the Memorial up close. I had seen it from the parking lot—which is to say not very well—and it looked charming. A low stone wall surrounded a brick courtyard with a small fountain in the center. Benches sat along the edge of the circle, and baskets of flowers hung around the outside of the circle. “It's so cute. I thought it was just, you know, a place to sit.”
We entered the circle, and I saw that some of the brick pavers had names on them. “These are the heroes?” I asked.
“Indeed, they are. Okay, help me look for...hang on.” She dug in her cardigan pocket and drew out a slip of paper. “JoAnn Pepper.” She held the paper up. “JoAnn Pepper. Sounds like someone who would be a WASP, doesn't she?”
I walked slowly around the circle, reading the names. “What year was it?”
Viv didn't answer. I looked up. Dang it. She was too busy looking for Nigel to pay attention to what we were doing.
Anne and Nigel came around the corner, her hand on his arm. He held their little miniature golf clubs in his other hand.
“Would you look at that!” Viv muttered. “She's dressed like a blasted teenager.”
Anne wore jeans and tennis shoes with a blue and white striped zip-up hoodie. She looked adorable.
“You look great,” I said under my breath. “Give him an enticing look.”
Anne beamed when she saw us. “Viola! Don't you look lovely this afternoon.”
“Viola?” Viv said. She scowled at Anne's hand on Nigel's arm, then forced a laugh. “You silly old nutter, you.”
Anne laughed and shook her head. “I know, I'm terrible with names. What are you two up to?”
“We're actually out looking for one of the Local Heroes I read about last night. A fascinating individual named JoAnn Pepper. She was—”
Anne gave a little gasp and clapped her hands together. “Oh, I knew JoAnn! She was a WASP!”
The smile slid from Viv's face. “Yes. She was.”
Anne put her hand back on Nigel's arm. “Did I tell you about JoAnn Pepper? We were in a Bible study together years ago. She was the most amazing woman I ever met.” She tilted her head back as if remembering, a wide smile on her face. “She drove the most beautiful powder blue Thunderbird convertible. She called it Piston-Packin' Mama! Her nickname when she was a WASP was Pistol-Packin' Mama, so...” She laughed again, clearly transported back in time.
“Right.” Viv said.
“I remember when she won the Baucum Local Hero award. No one more deserving, if you ask me.”
Viv frowned and chewed her lip. “Right, it was...teaching kids to read?”
“Not just read! She started an entire Saturday morning program for kids, so they could come get a hot meal, play games, read books. She said she talked to a friend of her son's one Monday morning and realized he hadn't had a thing to eat all weekend. The only meals he got were at school. So she started a Saturday morning program where the kids could come to the community center, get a muffin and a banana for breakfast, a hot lunch, and a sandwich sack lunch to take home for the next day. I'll bet she had every person in this town volunteering for something in that program at one time or another. Making sandwiches or calling bingo or washing apples or something. Everybody was in on it.”
“Yes, well...” Viv didn't appear to know what to say to that. “That does sound like an awful lot of carbs, but...”
I gave her a look.
“But, yes, a very impressive accomplishment.” She tugged at the lace collar around her neck.
“Highly commendable,” I said.
Viv gave me a look.
“But you should see Viv do yoga,” I said. “Like nobody's business.”
Nigel blinked. Anne's smile faltered a bit. No one seemed to know what to say to that.
“Nobody's,” Viv confirmed.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to smile at the couple walking toward us. I didn't recognize the old woman in the velour track suit, but—and I realized this with a gasp of dread—I certainly recognized the guy with her.
“Viv!” I hissed. “Look!”
It was the construction company guy, the one who had almost run over Viv after the Veterans Day ceremony. The one we'd made complete fools of ourselves in front of later that same day.
He recognized us, too—I could tell by the way he stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw my face. The woman with him kept shuffling along toward the stone circle, though, and he had little choice but to continue toward us. He passed a wary look from me to Viv. He probably expected to get another bizarre third-degree interrogation right here.
>
I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the truth was, I couldn't make any promises where Viv was concerned. I wanted to hightail it out of there, but Viv seemed locked into her plan to impress Nigel, come heck or high water.
“But unlike the rest of these people, JoAnn Pepper wasn't just a local hero,” Viv said, stepping closer to Nigel. “She was a war hero, too. Like you.” She batted her eyelashes.
Poor Nigel. He just gave a noncommittal smile and nodded.
“Indeed!” Anne said, not the least concerned that Viv was one step removed from a cat rubbing up against a man's leg with a soft purr. “JoAnn came all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, when she was only twenty years old to train at the airfield in Sweetwater. That's a town south of here,” she beamed at Nigel. “Over a thousand women trained to fly military planes so they could ferry them to the air bases for the men in combat. Such brave women! Of course, they weren't allowed to fly combat missions, but they freed up the servicemen so they could. In a lot of cases, they were the first ones to fly those planes, straight out of the factory. Can you imagine? How terrifying!”
“What are you, Wikipedia?” Viv groused.
“My father was a war hero,” the woman in the track suit said.
The young guy drew his head back, scowling. He looked at the woman—his mother, presumably; he'd said his mother was here in the Alzheimer's unit—then to the rest of us.
“Is that right, dear?” Anne said. “Bless him.”
The guy gave her a wry smile, then shook his head the slightest bit. Then he shrugged.
The woman didn't say anything else. She moved, slowly and silently, to the other edge of the circle and sat on the stone bench. She looked at the basket of flowers opposite her.
The young guy gave us another look, then moved closer to his mother without a word.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Viv was too preoccupied with Nigel to give this guy any time. She looked around at the names on the circle. Her spine stiffened, and I saw the tell-tale signs of her thinking up another tactic.
“It's a shame they weren't able to give out the Baucum Local Hero award this year,” Viv said. “My contact at Channel 11 said they just gave that story about the weather to hide the fact that they weren't prepared to give an award this year.”
“Is that right, dear?” Anne said. “Well...”
“I have contacts at Channel 11,” Viv repeated, leaning in a bit to gauge how impressed Nigel was.
He nodded and smiled.
Viv frowned. “With all the brouhaha over the Baucum Engineering thing, nobody thought to issue a call for nominations until it was too late.”
Nigel nodded and made a noise in his throat.
Anne gave a sad smile and tilted her head. “Is that right, dear? Well...”
I liked Anne—I liked her a lot. She was a sweet lady. But I didn't care for the way it seemed she was being dismissive of Viv. Maybe she was more offended by Viv flirting with her boyfriend than I originally thought—and who could blame her if she was? Still, I felt the need to stand in Viv's corner somehow.
“That is what the reporter from Channel 11 said when Viv interviewed her,” I said. “That Baucum Engineering always handled the nominations and awards, but when they went out of business, no one thought to take it up until it was too late.” I twisted my lip. Hmmm...that didn't seem quite as strongly in Viv's corner as I wanted. So I flat-out lied. “I had heard rumors that someone was going to nominate Viv, for her...contributions to crime solving in the community.”
Anne beamed once again. “Yes! Yes, she's certainly deserving. Well, perhaps someone will be more prepared to take up the mantle next year, and you'll have another shot.”
Viv gave a beneficent nod. “Perhaps.”
“Unless you plan to retire between now and then,” Nigel said.
“Are you barmy?” Viv looked at him with mock outrage. “A woman in the prime of her life, retiring? Don't let these sensible shoes fool you. Believe me, I have scads of baddie take-downs in me yet.”
“Scads,” I echoed.
Beside the woman in the track suit, the construction guy shifted and frowned in our general direction. He said something to her, too low for me to overhear, and then bent and took her elbow.
She stood, slowly, and they made their way carefully back down the sidewalk. His Eagle Construction pickup waited in the parking lot, and he helped her into the passenger seat. As Viv went on in a monologue about our crime-solving exploits that made us sound much more capable than we actually were, I watched the pickup—full of boxes, I noticed once he’d turned it toward the exit – pull out and drive away.
I turned back to the group. Viv was prattling on, and it appeared that Nigel was doing his best to look attentive, but shifted from one foot to the other, looking down the path we blocked, to the door of Belle Court and his apparent safety.
Anne, though...Anne's gaze was focused in the direction the construction guy and his mother had just left. She looked suddenly unbearably sad.
Back at Viv's apartment, I tried to cheer her up. “Well, I think that went well,” I said.
She scowled, but didn't say anything. She pulled the pin from her hat and tossed it on the sofa.
“Seriously. He's intrigued, I can tell. He probably just didn't want to hurt Anne's feelings.”
Viv dropped to the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table. “Anne! Anne would be just fine, I guarantee you. Anne is the type to always look on the sunny side, no matter what happens.” She unlaced her shoes and toed them off. They fell to the floor with a clunk and Stump immediately went to sniff them.
I remembered the sad look on her face. “No reason to be cruel to her, though. Did she seem sad to you? Maybe she knew that woman who was with the construction guy.”
Viv was too busy scowling at her feet to give it much thought. She shrugged.
“She's the one with Alzheimer's, I guess.” I sat in the comfy chair across from Viv. “Remember, he told us his mother was in the Alzheimer's unit here.” I cocked my head, realizing something. “Is it usual for them to leave like that?”
“Like what?”
“The guy put her in his pickup and drove off with her.”
“This is not a prison, Salem. I leave all the time, don't I?”
“Yes, but you don't have Alzheimer's. And she was confused. She said her father was a war hero, when clearly he wasn't.” The guy's very slight head shake and shrug. Poor guy. “There were a bunch of boxes in the back of his pickup. Do you think he was moving her?” That didn't seem right, though. Moving someone with Alzheimer's would be very traumatic to them, wouldn't it? Wouldn't they need structure and a familiar routine?
“I really don't know how all that works,” Viv said. “I have other things to worry about.”
I nodded. I'd learned long ago that Viv lived in a reality of her own making. In her mind, she and I were roughly the same age. The only reason she lived at Belle Court was because her fifth and last husband had set her up there before he died. I think her working hypothesis was that she lived in a very fancy full-service hotel, and it just happened to be filled with old people—asi de from herself, of course.
I had no problem with going along with this at all. I wasn't above playing fast and loose with reality sometimes myself. Where was the harm?
I hated seeing her look so frustrated, though. Reality wasn't cooperating with her fantasy at the moment.
“Do you want to drive over and see if Serena has had any more visions, or whatever they are?”
But she shook her head. “No. I think I'll stay in and watch some BBC.”
“More Miss Marple?”
“Ugh. No.” She frowned and looked at the baggy toes of her brown tights. “I'm going to have to let that one do him for a while. Blimey.” She groaned and leaned her head back on the sofa.
I nodded and stood, trying not to look too relieved. I didn't want to go to Serena's and have her say something like �
�Look, I see by your aura that your greatest fear is dying broke and alone!” with that serene smile.
Actually, I just wanted to get home and cuddle with Stump, maybe watch a sitcom on TV so I could forget everything sad for a while. I made my goodbyes to Viv and promised to be ready on a moment's notice when her next plan was ready to execute.
I drove the Monster Carlo out of Belle Court and pointed it for home. I wanted—wanted very badly—to swing by Tony's house, just to say hi.
He needed time. Just a few days.
I do love you, Salem, but...
I had run the words over and over in my head so many times, I honestly couldn't remember if he'd said the 'but' or not. On one hand, I knew he hadn't. On the other...it sounded so real in my head.
I sighed and pressed the pedal down toward Trailertopia.
Chapter Thirteen
Every British Man’s Fantasy
Viv called me at work the next day. “What time do you think you'll be off?”
I checked my list for the day. I had three more dogs to finish up, and one was a bichon frise. Those took a while to scissor. But I also had two schnauzers, which were usually pretty quick. “Two hours,” I said. “Two and a half, maybe. What's up today? More Marple stuff?”
“Are you kidding? I burned that outfit.”
“You did not.”
“Well, I did spend last night looking through every British show I could, and I think I have found the problem. Nigel is just not into detectives.”
Which meant, of course, that she couldn't find a female detective she wanted to emulate. She sounded upbeat, though, and she obviously had some scheme in mind or she wouldn't have called me. “No?”
“No, but it's okay because in my research I hit upon the perfect persona to take on. Emma Peel from The Avengers.”
I racked my brain. That spider thing that Scarlett Johansen played? I could definitely see Viv going for a full-body black leather look. But...
“But The Avengers aren't British,” I said.
“Not those Marvel guys,” Viv said. “The British spy series. From the sixties.”
“Oh.” Sixties British spies. This should be fun.
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