Murder and Mayhem

by Hamilton, B L

  “A couple of years ago we were in the Midwest and I needed to pick up a couple of things from the supermarket, so Ross pulled into a parking lot and we headed for Safeway.

  “Not far from the entrance, a table was set up with political posters and pamphlets manned by a couple of matronly looking women with large buttons on their jackets displaying the smiling face of some politician. One of the women was tall and well-dressed with her hair pulled back in a chignon at the base of her neck. The other woman was short and frumpy and even though she looked to be around mid-forties she was dressed in clothes that looked like they’d belonged to her grandmother.

  “As we walked past the table, the tall women called out, “Are you folks registered to vote?” I wasn’t sure who she was talking to but didn’t think it was us, so we just kept on walking. Then I heard a loud voice call out, “Pardon me sir, ma’am, are you registered to vote?” When I looked around, I realized the woman was talking to us.

  “No, sorry. We’re Australians,” I said, and kept going.

  “Everyone’s entitled to exercise their democratic prerogative to vote for the politician of their choice. If you haven’t registered already you can do it here today,” the short, frumpy woman called after us. Ross just gave them a backward wave as we went into Safeway, and we thought no more about it.

  “When we came out we noticed the women were trying to coerce hapless shoppers into registering to vote, but most of them rushed past pretending not to notice while others were backing away apologizing profusely, offering all manner of excuses. I don’t think they were having much success because when they saw us the smaller of the two women flapped her hands in the air to attract our attention and called out, “You folks need to register to vote in the upcoming elections.”

  Well, we just smiled and kept walking, but as we drove past on our way to the exit the well-dressed woman glared at Ross and mouthed words that would make the most hardened criminal blush.”

  When Ross wandered into the room drying his hand on a tea towel and said, “If looks could kill I’d be napping with the worms,” we all burst out laughing.

  “You know, I’ve often wondered what would have happened if we had taken them at their word and registered–just for the hell of it,” I said, wiping my eyes.

  “Maybe by some quirk of fate you could have ended up on the register. But I would hope it would have been picked up before that happened. At least I would hope so. But then, it all depends on who you’d voted for. There’s probably a few politicians out there who’d be happy to grab every vote regardless of whether you’re eligible or to vote or not,” Rosie said.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a few back home who dig up the dead and allow them to vote every time an election comes round,” Ross said.

  The sound of our laughter danced about the room, spilled into the hallway and filled the house with a joyful sound I hadn’t heard in a long time.

  *****

  First settled in 1651, the historic town of Kingston emerged from the shadow of the Catskill Mountains, where the waters of the Rondout Creek and Hudson River meet.

  As Danny navigated his way through peak hour traffic, he told Nicola about an old friend he’d arranged to meet later that night. Someone who used to be a good friend−a man he hadn’t seen in a long time.

  * * *

  When Danny wandered into the room with a towel draped around his waist, he saw Nicola lying naked on the bed, reading. He raked his fingers through his wet hair and asked her what she was looking at.

  “It’s just a brochure I picked up at the front desk. Did you know Kingston became New York’s first capital just before the British burned it to the ground in 1777? It says here that Kingston became an important hub after natural cement was discovered in the area in the nineteenth century. I never knew that.”

  Danny wandered over to the bed and planted a kiss on her backside. “Neither did I.”

  Nicola pushed him away and sat up. “Have you ever been to Kingston before?”

  “No. I haven’t traveled this side of the Hudson River before. I’ve traveled the east bank a couple of times. It’s a much prettier drive through towns like Tarrytown, Sleepy Hollow and Ossining. The east bank was where many wealthy families had estates–The Livingston’s, Vanderbilt’s, Roosevelt’s and the Rockefeller’s.

  “When I drove through Poughkeepsie, I took a detour and visited Vassar College. It was vacation time but the gatekeeper let me in. The place was really something. It has wonderful buildings and magnificent grounds with a lovely old stone church. When I was a kid I used to read about places like that.” He sat on the bed beside her and ran his fingers up and down her spine.

  “Did you go to an Ivy League College?” he asked.

  “No, I went to UCLA. It’s just a regular run of the mill college but I had fun and enjoyed being there. Most students do no matter which college they go to. It’s the fun and excitement of the whole college experience. For most students it’s being away from their parents, able to do whatever they please, with no curfews, and no rules. Well, not many. Most students go crazy those first couple of weeks, but eventually they settle down.”

  Danny smiled. “What about you? Did you run wild?”

  “No. Because we lived in the San Fernando Valley I lived at home. But I still had a great time. What about you? Did you go to college?”

  “We don’t have colleges in Australia like you have here. We have universities for those who get the marks and want to be doctors, lawyers or engineers, but it’s very expensive. What we have are TAFE colleges: Technical and Further Education. They’re a little like your colleges, but I think not so much fun. Most students don’t live on the campus. I did a three year course in computer science as well as a bunch of other stuff–but there was nothing remarkable about my time there. It was just a means to an end,” he said with an indifferent shrug.

  EIGHTEEN

  The sun was shining, birds were singing and traffic flowed steadily as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge.

  When I said, “Weather like this you wouldn’t be dead for quids,” to a Latino woman standing outside the hospital waiting room she gave me a strange look. I figured she probably had trouble understanding my Australian accent.

  As we entered the room I looked for Louanna and Chartreuse, but they were nowhere in sight.

  “They must have changed Chartreuse’s schedule again,” Rosie said.

  As we drew level with a couple of women who looked nervous and unsure, I decided to do my good deed for the day.

  “Hi,” I said cheerily. “My name is Bee and this here’s my sister, Rosie–but everyone calls her, Hon.”

  Both women looked up with startled expressions on their faces and took our outstretched hands.

  When the larger of the two women said, “My name is Susannah, and this is my sister, Daphne,” you could have knocked me down with a feather.

  Daphne was a mousy little woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun; large glasses that covered most of her face, and wore no makeup. Although dowdy in looks, Daphne made up for it by the kaleidoscope of colors she wore in the form of a multi-colored mini skirt, purple tights on skinny chicken legs, and a tight fitting pink and green striped top cut low to reveal absolutely no breasts whatsoever. Her fingers were stubby, the nails, without polish, were chewed to the quick.

  Susannah, however, was a big boned woman with volumes of yellow curls that put me in mind of a mass planting of daffodils. She had large pouting lips I’d be inclined to attribute to regular Botox injections more than genes, painted bright red with iridescent blue smudges around her eyes and an excessive amount of orange blusher smeared over plump cheeks. From her offered hand I noted her acrylic nails were almost as long as Louanna and Chartreuse’s–but not quite–covered in blood-red nail polish in an effort to focus the eye on the large jeweled rings that adorned every finger.

  I could only hazard a guess at the ages of both women–mid-to-late-forties.

  “Obviously,” I sa
id. “You two could be twins.” I felt a sharp dig to my side and dislodged my sister’s elbow from my fourth rib.

  “You think so?” Susannah exclaimed. “A lot of people say the same thing. But I’m much taller.”

  Daphne nodded. “I get that all the time,” she said.

  “What? That people think you’re twins–or that Susannah is much taller?” I said as I searched for common ground.

  “Oh, people often mistake us for twins. Susannah just likes to remind me she’s taller than me every chance she gets. It’s only a half inch or so, hardly noticeable at all,” Daphne said and lifted her shoulders with a snort of contempt.

  Hardly grounds for a family dispute, I would have thought.

  Susannah gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Don’t take any notice of her. Daphne’s just jealous because I outshine her in the looks department,” she added with a haughty sniff.

  I looked at both women and wondered who amongst us needed glasses–or eye surgery to remove cloudy cataracts.

  Rosie–ever the peacemaker–tried to defuse the situation before it turned ugly. “Fancy that, Bubbie, another set of sisters. Who would have thought?”

  Susannah glared at Daphne and added, “And, I’m the oldest.”

  Now that came as a complete surprise.

  “I’m sure there’s very little difference in your ages. I still can’t believe you’re not twins,” I said recalling the Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny Devito movie.

  Rosie shot me a warning look. I winced when her bony elbow found my fifth rib.

  As Susannah was the one wearing the skimpy hospital gown we didn’t need to ask who the patient was.

  “Is this your first time?” I asked, sympathetically.

  Susannah looked over Daphne and patted her on the hand. I thought it a strange gesture considering what had just transpired by way of sibling rivalry–and the fact that she was the patient.

  Rosie gave them an encouraging smile and said, “It’s not so bad.”

  “Especially when you consider the alternatives,” I added giving them one of my rueful smiles.

  The women looked at me with startled expressions. Suddenly Daphne burst into tears and headed for the restroom. Susannah, however, stared straight ahead, and made no attempt to follow.

  I could see Rosie was crestfallen as she watched Daphne disappear into the restroom. “Oh, poor thing, she’s obviously taking it hard. I think I should go after her.”

  “I think we should just leave her alone. Once she gets it out of her system she’ll settle down,” Susannah said. “Daphne’s a bit of a drama queen, always seeking attention. You should have heard her carrying on when she read the brochure about women having mastectomies. I told her, ‘You’ve lived without breasts all your life and it’s never done you any harm.’ Daphne’s got seven children and getting ready to kick husband number four to the curb and take up with number five,” she added and proceeded to pick her teeth with a talon-like nail. The jangle of the rings as she worked at each tooth was akin to sleigh-bells ringing in Christmas.

  “Far as I’m concerned once you’ve finished breastfeeding they’re just superfluous to needs anyway. Don’t you agree?” She inspected the nail for damage, or possibly something substantial to chew on.

  I remember having a similar conversation with my sister.

  “At our age they’re more nuisance than anything, especially when they start hanging around our knees.”

  Susannah picked up a magazine and started to flip through the pages. The sight of her pink tongue flicking in and as she turned each page put me in mind of one of those large lizards we have back home in Australia–Goannas we call them. But as I watched her I revised my observation–better make that a Komodo dragon.

  Rosie and I decided by way of sign language, now would be a good time to take our leave. We said our goodbyes and headed to the back of the room where people were already shuffling seats to accommodate of our arrival.

  Suddenly a familiar voice boomed across the room… “You are about to enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Scheindlin…”

  I looked up and saw Mr. Takamura balanced high on his perch and gave him the thumbs up.

  Good thing someone around here is keeping track of the time.

  *****

  “Who are you seeing tonight?” Nicola asked as the table was cleared and fresh coffee placed in front of them.

  “A great big bear of a man who goes by the name of Jinko.”

  “Jinko?”

  “Jinko Petrovsky. He’s built like a tank with hands the size of dinner plates. What Jinko doesn’t know about Harley Davidson motorcycles isn’t worth knowing.”

  “Do any of your friends belong to the Hell’s Angel or some other motorcycle gang?” Nicola asked. Paused, then added, “Do you?”

  Danny laughed. “No, I don’t belong to the Hell’s Angels or any other motorcycle gang. As for some of my friends,” he shrugged. “Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I know Jinko has some strange tattoos but most of the guys are just regular guys, like me.”

  Nicola’s eyes smiled. “Danny, there is nothing regular about you.”

  Danny laughed. “Oh. And you would be an expert?”

  Nicola ran her finger along a deep groove in the wood table, and said, without looking up, “I really don’t know much about you at all, Danny. You never talk about yourself.”

  Danny shrugged. “Not much to tell. All pretty boring, really. I’d rather hear about you. Tell me about your college days. It sounds like you had fun.”

  Nicola smiled recalling the good times. “Yes, I did. They were wonderful heady days where you’re suddenly thrust into a world where you have the freedom to choose–but, fear the responsibilities that come with those decisions. You step into a world beyond the safe cocoon of family and friends. It’s exciting–and scary all at the same time.”

  A small child misbehaving at the front entrance drew Nicola’s attention as a young couple walked in the door holding hands. The girl, tall and fair had a ready smile; the young man, dark, with pale eyes, was a good six inches taller.

  Nicola decided it was time to tell Danny about Steven.

  “I met Steven at college.”

  Danny gave a barely perceivable nod, but said nothing.

  “I was a freshman, Steven a sophomore. We met at a party off campus one night halfway into the second semester. It was one of those, ‘eyes meeting across a crowded room’ scenario, you think only happens in movies.”

  Nicola looked at Danny and tried to read what was hidden behind his steady, unblinking eyes.

  “From that moment on our world was filled with green and gold days and turquoise-colored nights. “We’d go to parties and discos, and to the beach with friends, and have picnics in the park. And at night we’d go for long walks along the beach and watch the waves crawl up the sand. Or we’d lie on the sand and look up at the stars. God was in His heaven and all was right with the world,” Nicola said nostalgically as she remembered those heady days of first love.

  “Our parents got on really well and everyone expected us to get married when we graduated, and so did we.”

  Danny noticed a desolate expression cross her face. He reached out and took hold of her hand. In the distance a church bell tolled. A train whistle blew. Someone laughed. People moved around like shadows in their vision. “Don’t talk about it if you don’t want to, Nic.”

  “I want to tell you, Danny. I want you to tell you everything.”

  Danny nodded. “What was Steven like?”

  “He was a lot like you.” Nicola dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Six-foot-one, lean and hard muscled, with jet black hair and incredible eyes. Steven had that look you see on people with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes framed by long black lashes that curled up at the ends. He had the kind of looks that takes your breath away,” she said, remembering. Nicola removed a Kleenex from her bag and wiped her eyes.

  “We were married right out of college and moved to Burbank
when Steven got an engineering job at Lockheed Martin, and I found work as a paralegal at a well-respected law firm. Life was good and as Steven moved up the ladder, we talked about buying a house and starting a family.

  And then suddenly, one day, our world came crashing down.”

  Around them, chairs scraped–someone laughed–a child cried–people shuffled past.

  “What happened?”

  “The stock market crash of ninety-seven. Some saw it as the beginning of the end of the economic boom of the nineties and became nervous. Lockheed started reorganizing the plant and Steven was let go.”

  Nicola took a sip of water and then continued, “No matter how hard he tried Steven couldn’t find a job where he was happy. He went from place to place never settling. When he realized his life wasn’t turning out the way he wanted, he became bitter. That’s when he started drinking,” Nicola’s voice, dwarfed by her grief, was little more than a whisper as tears slid down her cheeks.

  Danny threaded his fingers through her smaller ones. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

  Nicola shook her head. “If I don’t tell you now my courage might fail me. I’ve gone this far. Please, Danny, let me finish.”

  “All right. But you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Nicola took another sip of water, and then she said simply, “Steven started to gamble.”

  Danny shook his head, but said nothing.

  “Unbeknownst to me, Steven went to his parents for money. At first they gave it to him but when they found out what he was doing with it they refused to give him any more. His father told him that until he grew up, acted responsibly, and got a job–any job that lasted more than a couple of months, they wouldn’t give him another cent.

  Nicola drained the last of her coffee, put down her cup, and looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “Steven was furious.”

  Danny looked around for their waitress and signaled a refill. When the waitress arrived they sat quietly while she topped up their coffee.