“Weren’t you shocked?”
“Nup. I thought he was nice. What was his name again?”
“Allan – aka Simone.”
“That’s right. I remember now. You two used to be as thick as thieves. Always going off together somewhere – parties, shopping, foursome dinner dates. Simone always wore the most beautiful clothes. And her hair and make-up was always perfect. Even Mum admired the way she looked – thought she was a real lady.”
“She was my best friend at the time. We did everything together. We’d go shopping and buy clothes that we both liked so we could share them. Luckily we were the same size –except Simone’s feet were bigger than mine.” I sighed. “Shame. Simone had great taste in shoes.”
“I remember you used to share the same bed whenever Simone stayed the night. Good thing Mum didn’t know she was really a man.”
“God. No! She would have had a fit. Mum thought Simone was the product of an upper class, private school education. She was always telling me I should be more like her.”
“You have to admit Simone was glamorous. I remember she was some kind of showgirl wasn’t she?”
“Simone was a female impersonator at Les Girls – up at The Cross.”
“That’s right. And then she disappeared and I never saw her again.”
“She went to Paris and became a famous showgirl at the Crazy Horse nightclub or the Moulin Rouge. She wanted me to go with her but I was dating a really cute guy and didn’t want to leave. The last I heard she’d married a wealthy Italian Count and lived in his Palazzo on Lake Como.” I sighed as I recalled the hurried phone calls and scribbled postcards.
“She used to throw the most fabulous parties. Her picture was always in the social pages and splashed across Europe’s top fashion magazines.” I laughed. “I used to wonder if they knew she was really a man. Simone had a great sense of humor. She would have loved all that attention – and the glamorous lifestyle.”
“Whatever became of her?” Rosie asked after a while.
I shrugged. “Who knows? That was a lifetime ago.” We said nothing for a bit both lost in our own reminiscences. Finally I shook away the cobwebs and said, “Shall we get on with the story?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’m dying to find out what happens next.”
*****
Room 807 looked down on the murky black water of the Delaware River, lit by a cascade of lights from the Ben Franklin Bridge and buildings along the waterfront. Across the water where history told an entirely different tale, the lights of New Jersey blinked up at them, less brilliant.
Nicola was standing in front of the mirror when she noticed Danny watching her.
She gathered her hair in a knot at the back and clipped it in place. “Danny, I don’t feel comfortable with you paying for everything. I think we should share the expenses,” she said to his reflection.
“Here’s the thing, darling’,” he said the word Texan-style. “I was coming on this trip whether you were with me or not so I would have to pay for the room anyway. The same goes for the SUV and gas.”
“I understand. So let’s do it this way; how about you pay for the accommodation and transport, and I’ll pay for everything else?”
Danny shook his head, his gray eyes smiling. “Nope, that wouldn’t work. I’d feel like a kept man.”
“I just don’t feel right about you paying for everything,” Nicola said.
“Look, Nic. I’m just happy to have you with me. It’s so much more fun when you’ve got someone to share things with. The last couple of years have been pretty lonely on the road on my own so you’re doing me a favor just by being here.”
Nicola thought she noted a hint of sadness in his words. Her eyes met his in the silvered glass. “I can see I’m not going to win this one so I guess there’s no point in arguing,” she said as she dropped her hairbrush into her bag and checked her teeth for lipstick smudges.
“The last thing we want this early in the trip is to have an argument over something as trivial as who’s paying for what.” Danny looked at his watch. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s see what we can rustle up by the way of food in this town?”
TWELVE
I heard the back door open–and then close. As was always the case at our mother’s house, family and friends came in through the back door. Visitors, salesmen and dark-suited Mormons were the only ones who came to the front. When the doorbell chimed, if we weren’t expecting anyone, we ignored it.
“Hello, anybody home?” I heard Ross call from the kitchen.
“We’re in here.”
Ross strolled into the room with one of my sister’s floral aprons draped over his arm. He glanced around the room, made a quick reconnaissance–and said, “Where is everyone?”
I watched him tie the apron around his waist and my heart fluttered. Probably heartburn I thought as I tried to remember which television star he reminded me of. And then it came to me like a bolt out of the blue–the short, bald-headed biker from The Hairy Biker’s Cookbook. Definitely heartburn!
I glared at him over the top of my glasses. “What do you mean, where is everybody? We’re here, aren’t we? Who else were you expecting?” Television star or not, he’d better come up with a good answer.
“Sorry, Bee, I was looking for my little mate.”
I knew he was referring to our nephew, Cody. Those two were like peas in a pod. Even though Ross was only five-foot-nine-inches tall, and Cody an inch or so shy of six foot, if he had hair he’d be getting up there. As for the weight issue–we won’t even go there.
I eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with Cody?”
He shifted from one foot to other, like a cat on a hot tin roof.
“I was going to take him to see the boys.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Boys! And what boys would that be?”
“You know, Bee…, the guys.”
I puckered my lips in a tight little moue and shook my head. “Do you mean that hairy, tattooed, wild bunch of misogynistic miscreants, who, if they had half a brain, would have the words, made in Milwaukee, stamped on it?” I folded my arms and waited for him to come up with an answer.
“Ah gee, Bee. They’re not all bad. Some of the guys are family men.”
“If by family you mean Satan’s Devils or The Burritos or whatever else you call yourselves, the word “family” doesn’t belong in the same sentence!”
“Gee, Bee, Cody wanted to meet the guys.”
I glared at him over the top of glasses. “Cody is not going to meet the guys, so you can put that idea right out of your head. They’re nothing but a bunch of flaneurs,” I added.
My sister, who, up until now, had been contemplating her navel, so to speak, looked up. “What’s a flaneur, Bubbie?”
“Someone who cares nothing for, nor contributes to, the rest of society,” I told her.
“You mean worthless, no-account lay-a-bouts–like politicians?”
I nodded. “They’re a bunch of self-indulgent, self-centered, self-absorbed, self-serving, sons-of-bitches who rape, steal and rip-off hardworking taxpayers. The motorcycle marauders, on the other hand, pollute the gene pool.”
“But, Bee …”
“Don’t, but Bee, me. The matter is closed. Do I make myself clear?”
Ross nodded, his face dour, but then he looked at my sister and his face suddenly brightened.
“Would you like to see my new tattoo, Hon?”
I rolled my eyes to the heavens, but if anyone was there they gave me no sign. “Trust me on this, Hon; you do not want to see it.”
Rosie laughed. “Where is it, Ross?”
I shook my head. “Believe me, girlfriend, you really don’t want to know.”
Ross heaved a long drawn-out sigh… and said, “I guess I’ll go fix dinner.” Then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “How does cream of mushroom soup, followed by Atlantic salmon with asparagus tips in hollandaise sauce, sound? I found a great little market in Lark
spur this morning that sells everything fresh.”
His footsteps got lighter as he hurried down the hallway.
“Now, where was I?”I said as I peered at the screen.
*****
“Longwood Gardens, a magnificent estate bequeathed to the state by Pierre S. du Pont, is less than an hour’s drive, and well worth the visit,” the woman at the front desk assured them as she handed several brochures to Nicola.
It was a crystal clear morning as they drove through picturesque Chester County where fall colors were beginning to show in the trees. Birdsong drifted in through the open window with the faint smell of wildflowers and roses. The sky was the clear blue of Wedgewood china with no clouds in sight. When they reached the historic village of Chadds Ford, in the middle of the Brandywine Battlefield, Nicola shuffled around in her bag and withdrew a glossy brochure.
“I knew I’d seen that name somewhere before,” she said as she unfolded the brochure and started to read.
“‘On the eve of the battle of Brandywine in 1777, General George Washington made his headquarters in the home of a local Quaker farmer in Chadds Ford, while the Marquis de Lafayette was quartered close by. Sadly, General Washington failed to guard an important ford on the Brandywine Creek where he was outflanked and outmaneuvered by the British and Hessian Troops who then rode on and took possession of Philadelphia, where they spent a comfortable winter, while Washington’s troops were forced to endure a bitter winter at Valley Forge.’”
Danny frowned. “Chadds Ford. That name sounds familiar.” He glanced out the window at an old stone cottage surrounded by a roughly-hewn rock wall covered in brambles.
“Why? Have you been through here before?” Nicola asked.
“No, I’ve never been to this part of the state before, but there’s something familiar about the name, and I don’t mean in an historical context.”
As they drove through the entrance to Longwood Gardens and headed for the parking lot, already half-full, Nicola picked up another brochure, and started to read.
“‘Originally belonging to William Penn, the one thousand acre parcel of land overlooking the picturesque Brandywine River was purchased by Pierre S. du Pont in 1906, who turned his passion for gardening into one of the world’s great horticultural showplaces…’”
Even though Danny appeared to be listening, he was still trying to recall the Chadds Ford connection that he knew meant something…
*****
I walked into the room and noticed my sister standing by the window, her lips moving in silent monologue.
“What are you doing?”
“Praying for rain.”
I shrugged and started to leave then stopped at the open doorway and turned. “Since when did you believe in the power of prayer?”
“I don’t. I just thought I’d get a rise out of you.”
“Well you know what thought did?”
Her voice followed me down the hallway and caught up at the kitchen.
“If I said it out loud do you think it would make a difference?”
“Your lips to God’s ear…? Not very likely!”
*****
Danny tugged the T-shirt over his head and ran his finger through his wet hair. “Nic, do you want to eat at Applebee’s tonight? I saw one just up the road.”
“Sounds good to me,” Nicola called from the bathroom.
A short time later she stepped into the room wearing Victoria’s Secret black lace underwear, the copper highlights in her hair backlit from the light behind.
Danny looked up from the battered notebook he had been flicking through, and grinned…
“Don’t even think about it,” Nicola warned as she grabbed a pair of jeans off the bed, wriggled into them, pulled up the zip and snapped the stud-fastener in place.
Danny watched as she pulled a charcoal-gray jersey top over her head, tug it over her breasts, and fluffed up her hair.
“Remember when we were traveling through Chadds Ford this morning I said the name, not the place, sounded familiar?” he said.
Nicola nodded.
“Well, I found out why. I looked through my book of Harley contacts and found a guy I met some years ago at a swap meet in Davenport, Iowa, who lives in Chadds Ford. I made a note at the time that it would be worthwhile getting in touch if I was ever in the area.” Danny waited for some kind of response. But Nicola said nothing, so he continued, “So while you were in the shower I gave him a call and arranged to drop by his place later tonight.”
“Oh, sure, we can do that. It’s not far from here,” Nicola said as she put the finishing touches to her makeup in front of the mirror.
Danny was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. He crossed the room and opened it to a tall bearded man wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his head and wraparound sunglasses.
“Can I help you?” Danny asked.
The man looked past him to where Nicola was standing in front of the mirror and said, “Sorry, I must have the wrong room,” and walked off.
THIRTEEN
We strode purposefully into the room. Tall and willowy, we were a couple of babes that had more chutzpah than all the Paris Hilton and Britney Spears look-alikes put together. Just because we had shrunk a centimeter or two, have love handles in places you wouldn’t want to know, and touched up the odd bit of gray hair–doesn’t make it not so.
People greeted us with warm smiles as we passed.
“Hi, Linda,” Rosie said as she dropped her bag on the empty chair next to her friend.
Linda peeked out from behind the pages of a magazine and nodded a sigh.
“Hey, Linda, how’s tricks?” I sat on the chair and made myself comfortable.
Linda’s head shot up with a startled look on her face. “Tricks! What tricks?”
“Never mind, Linda, it’s just an expression.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll just go and change.” Rosie grabbed a gown from the table and headed for the change room.
“What have you been up to lately, Linda?”
“Up to? I haven’t been up to anything. Who said I had?”
“Nobody. I was just trying to make polite conversation the way normal folks do.”
Linda looked at Rosie and smiled as she sat down beside her. “I’ve found a good place to hide the body,” she said excitedly.
I leaned across the front of my sister. “Sorry, Linda, you’re too late. The body has already been buried. We’re not going to dig it up and move it. Especially now it’s started to putrefy, and the worms and maggots have started to infest it. It would just be too messy.”
“It would probably be all bloated up and smelly as well,” Rosie suggested.
“And the flesh would be starting to slough off the bones. Shame you didn’t come up with something earlier. We could have done with a hand. But now it’s too late–Pity.”
“I’m s… so… s... sorry,” Linda stammered.
“You can’t leave bodies lying around, Linda. Not in this heat. You have to get them in the ground before they start going off…” I explained.
“You know, health issues and all,” my sister added knowingly.
I reached across and gave Linda a consoling pat on the thigh. “But, don’t feel too bad; I’ll keep you in mind for the next one.”
Linda clutched her stomach; horror etched in every pore of her putty-gray face. As she jumped up she knocked over her chair, spilling her things onto the floor. I watched the door slam behind her as she raced out the room.
I righted the chair and picked her things up. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. It’s not like we’re ungrateful. Everyone knows you can’t leave bodies lying around while you wait for someone to find a Potter’s Field closer than the one in Virginia.”
“You don’t have to tell me…” my sister started–and stopped. “Bodies!” she said, her eyes wild. “Bodies! You mean there’s more than one?”
My attention wavered to a loose thread caught in the sea
m of my jeans. “Well, it’s best to prepare for any future contingencies,” I said as I gave it a tug.
“I don’t think I like the way this conversation is heading.”
I gave her a conciliatory pat on the arm. “Then we shan’t talk about it anymore.”
*****
The hostess smiled as she escorted them to a table. When they were seated she handed them menus and said, “Your server will be with you shortly.”
The waiter arrived with glasses and a jug of ice water. After the glasses were filled he took down their order and left.
Danny picked up the glass and took a long drink. “This is nice.”
Nicola didn’t say anything, her eyes scanned the room.
“Are you okay?” Danny asked.
Nicola dragged her eyes away from a large man standing by the door. “Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?”
“You seem a little preoccupied.”
“I’m okay, Danny, really.”
Danny looked at the sports memorabilia and photos of local teams and cheerleaders that covered the walls, along with pictures of long dead movie stars–and rock ‘n’ rollers who managed to wipe themselves out on a regular basis.
The restaurant was filled with families and young couples, and groups–while the bar was dominated by men more interested in the game on the screen than the food on their plates. The obligatory bottle of beer stood within easy reach.
Nicola watched a tow headed child of around six or seven, sitting in the booth opposite. He was attempting to tell his parents a story, but couldn’t stop laughing long enough.
Danny reached across the table and took hold of her hand.
“Nic?”
“Yes, Danny,” she said, her attention still on the young boy.
“I don’t want you to come with me tonight.”
Nicola’s smile faded. “Why not?”
“Because I feel more comfortable with these guys on my own,” Danny said.
“I see,” she said softly–but she didn’t see at all.
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