“Well, aren’t you full of surprises today? Sit tight and allow me.”
Tom got out and opened my door. I took his hand and emerged from the SUV like a middle-class Marilyn Monroe.
“Hey, Laverne,” I waved at the pair. “Hey, J.D.”
“Looks like it finally stopped raining,” J.D. said.
“Good thing, too,” Laverne said. “One raindrop would ruin this whole batch of meringues.”
I took a peek at them. “They look delicious, Laverne.”
“Congrats on the whole Krassco thing,” I heard Tom whisper to J.D. as I admired Laverne’s treats.
“I’m a real survivor,” J.D. joked with Tom. Then turned to me and said, “Here, Val, these are for you. I figured I owed you them.”
I looked down and smiled with delight. “Where did you find these?”
“At the drugstore. It’s the first of September. Time for the Halloween candy – before the Christmas junk arrives.”
Tom eyed the bag of chocolate-covered marshmallow ghosts in my hand.
“What’s that all about?”
“I claim a mulligan,” I said. Tom rolled his eyes.
“Guess what,” Laverne said. “Something ate the apples in the washtub. It had to be Randolph!”
“It could have been a possum,” Tom said.
Laverne shook her head. “Impossible. It was Randolph, all right.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Easy. The goggles are gone, too!”
I should have known....
I nodded at Laverne and caught a glimpse of the ugly, three-story orange house neighboring Caddy’s. “Are you going to miss the place when you move?” I asked J.D.
“I haven’t yet, so I probably won’t.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I moved out on Wednesday. The deal with Amsel closed on Thursday.”
“Oh.” The finality of his words made everything going on seem real for the first time. A sting of disappointment shot through me.
“J.D.’s been staying with me,” Laverne said. “We’re officially shacked up...until his place is ready at the Ovation.”
“But the lights are on,” I said, nodding toward the house. “Who’s over there?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” J.D. said. “The check’s in the bank. Let Amsel do with it what he wants.”
We stepped up onto Caddy’s open porch. We were the only folks there besides a bartender I recognized from way back, but couldn’t remember his name.
“Hi,” I said. “We’re here for the going-away party. Where is everybody?”
“With Greg and Norma gone, most of the customers quit showing up days ago,” he said. “I guess tonight the bad weather’s keeping away the rest.”
“It’s just a little rain,” I said.
The bartender sighed. “You know that old saying, fair-weather friends. What can I get you?”
“A Tanqueray and tonic please, twist of lime.”
I reached for my wallet, but Tom’s hand folded over mine.
“I’ve got this.” He turned to the bartender. “I’ll have a beer. Windy tonight, eh?”
“Yeah,” he said, and handed us our drinks.
As I took a sip, I glanced over Tom’s shoulder and saw Jake come in. He walked up to me and handed me something.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the tag that was clipped to Randolph’s ear. I took it off before I baked him. I thought well, you might want to have it.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“It might be closure...you know, for Laverne.” Jake nodded his head sideways toward the bar. Laverne was leaning over the counter, offering the bartender a meringue.
“Oh.” I tucked the tag in my purse. “Maybe I’ll show it to her later.”
“What’s that?” Tom asked.
I winced. “Uh...another mulligan.”
Tom shook his head. “Keep this up Val, and you might have to move to Ireland.”
Chapter Forty
“Where’s the pig?” I asked Jake while Tom was distracted talking to J.D.
“It’s in my van. I’m going to need some help carrying it in.”
A heavy gust of wind swept through the porch like a whirlwind, bringing enough moisture with it to melt my hair like cotton candy in the rain.
“Should we put it on a picnic table outside?” I asked, swiping at an errant strand of hair.
“Better make it indoors,” Jake said. “It looked like it was getting pretty rough on my way over.”
I glanced out at the greyish-red sunset fading over the Gulf. “If the weather was gonna get worse, they’d have said something on the news.” I nodded over toward the bar. The TV above the bartender was tuned to a tennis match.
“I guess,” Jake said. He looked past me in the direction of the parking lot, then quickly said. “If you need me, I’ll be drinking in the men’s room.”
“Huh?” I followed his line of sight and saw Nancy stumble through the door, a squawking parrot on her shoulder. She had Hawaiian leis stacked around her neck up to her chin. “Isn’t that ridicu –” I said, turning back to Jake.
But he was already gone.
I WAS MAKING SMALL talk with a parrot when I heard Winky bellow behind me.
“Better watch out, Val!”
I turned to find him standing right next to me, Winnie at his side.
“Hey, you two!”
“Winnie brought you a batch of them awful cookies I told you about.”
“Winky!” Winnie shot him a dirty look. “Here, Val.” She handed me a sack. “These are for Snoggles. They’re dog treats.”
“Oh,” Winky said. “Well that explains it.”
I stifled a smirk and strategically changed the subject before those two erupted into another domestic disagreement. “Tell me. When you two get married, are you gonna have kids?”
Winnie opened her mouth to say something, but Winky beat her to it.
“Nope,” Winky said. “We got the dogs now. Our Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy. They’re enough for anybody.”
Winnie opened her mouth again to say something, but this time Milly beat her to it.
“You can never have too many dogs,” her voice sounded behind me. I turned around to see my old friend Milly with Vance by her side. “In fact,” she said, “we’ll be looking for good homes for a new batch of pups in a couple of months.”
“It seems Charmine has gone and gotten herself knocked up again,” Vance said. “This time by a Chihuahua named Paco.”
“So, it appears you two are expecting again,” I quipped.
“Really? You, too?” Jorge asked as he and Sherryl walked up. “We can’t wait for ours to get here!”
“But Jorge,” Milly said, “I thought you didn’t want a puppy.”
“Puppy?” Jorge’s face reddened. “Oh! Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yes,” Milly said. “What else?”
“Oops.” Jorge cringed and wrapped his arm around his wife, Sherryl. “Well, we don’t want to upstage Goober’s big day, but we’re expecting!”
“Expecting what?” Winky asked.
“A bambino...or bambina,” Sherryl said.
Winky clapped his hands together. “All right! I got me some bongos in the truck. Maybe we can start us up a band tonight!”
Jorge glanced around at the rest of us. I couldn’t speak for anyone else, because I, for one, was speechless.
Jorge shook his head. “No, Winky. What Sherryl means is that we’re expecting a baby.”
“A gaul-dang baby?” Winky cried out. “Well I’ll be! Allow me to correctify myself. Congratulations, you two!”
Tom came over and joined us. “What’s going on?”
“Jorge and Sherryl are having a baby!” I said.
Tom eyed me carefully. “You knew already, didn’t you?”
I diverted my eyes. “Mulligan.”
“This here calls for some champagne!�
� Winky said to the bartender. He obligingly pulled out a bottle from the cooler behind the bar and uncorked it while everyone congratulated the expectant couple.
I helped Winky pour the champagne into plastic cups, and we passed them around until everyone had one. But when I got to Winnie, she put her hand out to stop me.
“I can’t have any,” she said. She looked up at Winky. “I’m pregnant, too.”
Winky let out the biggest hillbilly yell I ever heard.
“Wooo hooo!” he hollered. He grabbed Winnie, hugged her close and said, “I thought you’d done hard-boiled all your eggs in that hot tub of ours.”
“Hardly,” she laughed. “Sorry I’ve been so grumpy lately. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about the news.”
“I ain’t happy, Winnie. I’m what you call it? Aesthetic.”
“Ecstatic?” I asked.
“That’s the one!”
“Never a dull moment,” Goober said, walking up wearing a ski cap.
“That’s a good look for you,” I quipped, and handed him a cup of champagne.
He shrugged. “Keeps the stares to a minimum.”
I raised my plastic cup. “A toast! To the next generation of our little family!”
“And to the last one,” Winky added. “Let’s don’t forget about Glad.”
“Never,” I said. “Who could forget her? In fact, let’s give her a toast too. You all know what I’m talking about!”
Everyone laughed, raised their glasses and cheered, “Screw you, kiddo!”
THE THOUGHT THAT WINKY and Jorge were both getting another chance to have a family made my heart swell with pride, and my eyes brim with tears of gratitude.
But it didn’t last.
Our little family love fest came to a screeching halt when Amsel showed up carrying his shoes in his hands and Dimson on his arm.
I shot a glance at Goober. He nodded. I looked over at Tom. He cocked his head and looked at me sideways.
One out of two wasn’t that bad. I nodded back at Goober.
Operation Take-Down Amsel was officially in play.
AMSEL STEPPED UP TO the bar next to me, slipped his expensive Gucci loafers back on, and bellowed into the crowd, “Where’s the idiot who gave me that box of cigars?”
I looked at Tom, then Goober, wondering which one would step up to the bat. Goober beat Tom to the punch – as it turned out, in more ways than one.
“I did,” Goober said, adjusting his ski cap. “I’d like to officially welcome –”
That was as far as Goober got before Amsel punched him in the face.
“I put those rotten cigars in my humidor,” he screeched as Goober stumbled backward into Tom’s arms. “Now my entire collection is infested with weevils!”
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Goober took a step toward Amsel, but the pig-faced coward ran out the door. Tom held tight to Goober. I heard him say, “Let him go, buddy. It’s not worth it.”
“Story of my life,” I heard Darlene Dimson mumble under her breath as she watched Amsel disappear out the door. She walked over to the bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks, laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar and headed for the ladies’ room.
I started to follow her, but was stopped in my tracks by a vision even uglier than Amsel.
Hobbling up onto the porch was either the ugliest woman in the world, or it was Finkerman...in drag.
Chapter Forty-One
“Dear god. Is that you, Finkerman?” I asked the frizzy-haired hag.
“It’s me. But tonight I’m Sharon. As in share-n-share alike. Get it?”
“Classy.”
Finkerman waggled his drawn-on eyebrows. “I thought you’d like it.”
“I told you to dress sexy, Finkerman. Not hexy. You look like a witch in that.”
“I thought a little black dress was always in vogue.”
“Yeah. If you’re a woman.”
“Whatever. Listen, I just saw Amsel run over to that ugly orange house across the beach.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How am I supposed to do my thing now?”
“Plan A is in the crapper.” My own words lit a lightbulb in my head. “Hold on. Dimson just went to the ladies’ room.”
“That alley skank?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna go in there. Maybe I can figure out something else while I’m in there. Wait here.”
Finkerman glanced around. “Where else would I go?”
I TOOK A SEAT IN THE other stall next to Dimson and, for lack of any other ideas, flushed the toilet.
“Is that you, Karen?” she asked.
“Uh...yes,” I answered.
“You showed this time. Good. Listen, the plan’s changed. But it’s actually better. That jerk Amsel’s gone and gotten himself in trouble again running his big mouth. What a surprise. Anyway, he’s ditched me and run over to that house he owns next door. He’s right where I want him for our original plan. You understand?”
I waited in the silence for a beat and said, “Yes.”
“You’ve got the recorder ready?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’m going to slam down a very necessary glass of vodka, then I’m going to meet Amsel at his place for a quickie. I’ll leave the blinds open. Don’t mess it up this time. I’m not doing that alley stint again, you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Get us doing the deed on tape, then tap three times on the window when you’ve got what you need. Do it right and you’ve earned yourself ten percent of a hundred grand. Are we clear on this?”
“Yes.”
“Wait ten minutes, then head for the ugly orange house on the right. No. Wait. Knowing Amsel, better make it just five minutes.”
“Got it.”
“Okay. See you over there. Remember, if you don’t get a picture of us getting laid, you don’t get paid.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Because I honestly don’t think I can do this another time. Not for just a hundred grand.”
I heard Dimson’s heels click across the floor. They stopped. I held my breath. Finally, she said, “Nice shoes.”
The door closed behind her.
Great. Now what?
I waited until I figured Dimson had downed her vodka and left the bar, then I slunk out of the restroom.
Tom was busy helping Goober staunch his bloody nose. And, just my luck, Finkerman was over in a corner talking to Nancy.
“Sorry,” I said, barging in between them. “I need to borrow him...I mean her for a minute.”
I snatched Finkerman’s arm and tugged him out of earshot of Nancy.
“Listen, you brought your recording equipment like I asked, right?”
“Of course.” Finkerman patted his fake boob. “It’s in my bra.”
Too much information. Again.
“Okay. We’re going with the same basic plan...but a new location and new...uh...subject matter. Instead of recording Amsel’s confession, I want you to record his...uh...indiscretion. Can you handle that?”
Finkerman rolled his eyes at me. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Fremden.”
“No. But you do look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”
Finkerman scowled. “You want me to do this or not?”
“Sorry. That was too good to pass up. Okay, so just get over to that house you saw Amsel run into. Dimson will be there, you know, uh, ready and waiting.”
“Geeze! Amsel and Dimson again? I should be getting hazardous duty pay.”
“I promise when this is all over, I’ll figure out a way to make it worth your while.”
“Okay. I’m going.”
“Wait. There’s one more thing we need to do first.”
“What?”
“We’re going to have to trade shoes.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t ask,” I said, yanking off my shoes. I handed them to him. “Just put these on and go.”
Finkerman crammed his feet into my sandal
s, winced, and minced his way out the door. As I slid my feet into his floppy pumps, something clicked into place in my brain like a missing jigsaw piece.
Shoes. Trading shoes....
“That’s it!” I said aloud.
“What’s it?” Tom asked.
“Shoes. I think I figured it out, Tom! Norma was always complaining about her feet. She bought those new Birkenstocks on Monday, but when I saw her on Wednesday, those weren’t the shoes she was wearing. Maybe she tried to break them in, but they hurt her feet too much.”
“So?” Tom asked. “Where are you going with this?”
“Well, let’s say Norma took off her new shoes, put the old ones back on, and stowed the new ones somewhere in the back of the restaurant. Then later, someone took her new shoes and wore them to disguise themselves...or so they wouldn’t get their own shoes dirty. Did you notice Amsel when he came in? He was carrying his expensive loafers.”
“You think he was the one who wore the other pair of Birkenstocks...along with Dimson?”
“Exactly. A man wearing Norma’s shoes. Like Goober wearing those red pumps. And Finkerman wearing mine.”
“What?”
I bit my lip. “Mulligan.”
Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Okay, Val. So, you’re pretty sure Amsel’s behind Greg and Norma’s disappearance.”
“Yes. But I think Amsel’s too stupid to pull off anything that elaborate all by himself. Dimson’s got to be the brains behind this, Tom. She’s setting Amsel up to take the fall for everything. Finkerman’s here working with me. He’s getting it all on tape as we speak.”
“Finkerman? What do you mean? Taping what?”
“Mulligan.”
“Val, you can’t say mulligan every time –”
Just then, a gust of wind blew my dress up over my head. As I yanked it down, the scabbed-on roof above my head made a horrible cracking noise. A second later, it blew off and disappeared into the dark, wind-swept night.
Chapter Forty-Two
I felt my feet lifting out of Finkerman’s shoes. Suddenly, warm hands gripped my waist and pulled me back down to earth.
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