Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries

by Barbara Silkstone

  “'No, you cannot,' he said. 'I threw away your pills.'

  “'You creep.' I hadn't been able to find the pills since we arrived, but I thought they were just lost at the bottom of my suitcase.

  “He went all scary. 'Do you know how dangerous it is to bring illegal drugs into Greece? You could get us all thrown into jail for life.'

  “I guess I started to cry. I felt so awful and stupid.

  “'I'm sorry.' I said. 'I'm sorry I have to take pills. I'm sorry I'm fat. I'm sorry I'm too ugly for you. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry…'

  “I ran right into the water and kept going—jumping over the breakers and swimming out to the open sea, arm over arm, clawing the water. I wanted to swim past the waves, past the boats, and past the point where I would have any strength to swim back to shore. I wanted the water to take my body from me. I wanted not to be this empty, unlovable thing anymore.

  “He dove in after me and grabbed me under the chin like a drowning kid and pulled me back to the beach. He carried me to the blanket and dumped me.

  “Kneeling over me, his lean, damp body shining in the firelight, his eyes stared at me, dark and unblinking.

  “He was so quiet, I could hear a couple down the beach going at it. The woman let out a shriek. The man groaned. The hippies around the bonfire were singing the Mickey Mouse Club song.

  “'Yes, you are too fat,' Mikhail said in a fierce whisper. 'You are too fat here.' He touched my forehead. 'Between your ears. How can you not know that you are beautiful? That men desire you? That I desire you?'

  “'Then why don't you want to have sex?' I said.

  “'Have sex?' he repeated, mocking me. 'Like have lunch? Like have a burger? Have a Chevrolet! Have a nice day! I have you. You have me. Americans—I am not like you.' He gestured at the couple in the sleeping bag. 'All this soulless, mix-and-match copulating, like rodents, like so much vermin. I want to give something to the woman I love, not just have her.'

  “His face came down close to mine. 'But right now I can give you nothing. I am a soldier. I have to go where I am sent. But someday—someday, I would like to make you feel like Queen of the Universe. I want to make the moon bow to you and the stars come down from the sky.'

  “His face was so beautiful there in the pale, golden light from the distant fire, that I couldn't help kissing him.

  “And he kissed me back, and now I know that until that minute, I'd never had the slightest idea of what a kiss was about. It was like eating food when you've been starved so long you've forgotten there's a word for hungry. I fed on him, wanting more of him—all of him. He was light when I'd been blind—music when I'd been deaf. He was heat. When he touched me, I felt I must be burning like that bonfire, lighting up the sky.

  “'Please, Mikhail,' I whispered as he pulled away. 'I don't need to be queen of anything. I just need you.'

  “From the bonfire came voices singing —

  “'M-I-C-, K-E-Y'

  “'Why can't we be rodents and vermin?' I dug my fingers into his dark hair and tried to pull him down to me.

  “He laughed and stared into my eyes as he traced the side of my cheek with his finger. 'M-O-U-S-E', he sang softly, along with the hippie voices.

  “They sang another verse.

  “I sang, too, wriggling out of my dripping dress.

  “Mikhail sang another line and I grabbed for the zipper of his jeans.

  “After a crazy frenzy of sweat and salt and sand that burned itself out too soon, he lay on me, panting.

  “I looked up and saw the stars were falling all around his halo of wild black curls.

  “'Look,' said a woman's voice from the sleeping bag. 'There's one. And another. Oh, the meteors are everywhere.'

  “Mikhail rolled beside me and looked up.

  “'You see,' I said. 'The stars are coming down from the sky. You have made me Queen of the Universe.'

  “He laughed. 'Then come back to the room, your Highness,' he said. 'And I will make real love to you.'

  “And he did. All night long.”

  “Well!” Helen said a falsely perky voice. “That all seems a… I think I should stop now.”

  “Stop?” Cady was busy sorting through this avalanche of information. “No, please. What was it Regina wrote about a nest of vipers? About Prince Max being broke? We may be the only people on the planet who have access to this information. Go on. I may be a Baptist minister, but I am aware that people have sex, you know.”

  Helen giggled.

  Cady didn't. Her only thought was that a man who once made her feel like Queen of the Universe, and another who, somehow, still did, were both on their way into that “nest of vipers,” whose secret might be revealed in that diary.

  “Keep reading, Helen.”

  Chapter 39—Cady: Vermin

  Cady hadn't found Regina's adventure on the beach shocking, but she was a bit unhappy to hear about the Sybils. She'd lived in the same dorm with Freebie and Pinky for three years and never known they were lesbian lovers. Why was that sin everywhere these days?

  Helen fussed with something. “I can read a few more pages before I go, but that is all. I am sorry.”

  “Go? Go where? Aren't the reporters still outside?”

  “Oh, yes.” Helen's laugh tinkled as she unwound gauze. “But I have learned from Lupe. I will forget my English as soon as I leave the gate. But I must go home. My shift is over in a few minutes and I have a family.”

  A family. Of course. Other folks had families. Regular folks. Married. With children.

  A large image of Mickey Mouse floated before her.

  Mickey Mouse on a blue-green background. Mickey Mouse.

  “Helen!” she said. “Are you wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt?”

  She could see.

  “A sweatshirt, yes. With matching sweatpants. The doctor was angry I did not wear a uniform, but I came at short notice and my girls had soccer practice, and—oh, my!”

  Helen's pale face hovered like a moon above the green of her clothes and peered into Cady's eyes.

  “Can you see me? Tell me what you see!”

  Cady tried to focus on the dark place where Helen's eyes had to be, and then… everything went dark. Again.

  “Nothing. It's gone.” Was it the last flicker of light before permanent darkness, like a light bulb about to burn out? Or could it mean her sight was coming back—please, Lord.

  “The doctor said this could happen. It would be best for you to sleep now.”

  “No,” Cady said. “I can sleep later. Please read as long as you can, Helen.”

  Who knew if the next nurse would be able to get through the crowd, or be able to read English? Losing the ability to read—that was the worst part of this dark burden God had set upon her shoulders.

  Helen resumed reading:

  “August 6

  “Gone. How could that bastard be gone? How could I have been so wrong, so stupid, so crazy? Why did I believe his ridiculous lies?

  “This is what happened: Yesterday, about noon, he woke me up with a breakfast of that incredible sheep's milk yogurt and honey and a pastry and wonderful dark coffee from the bar in town. I was feeling so happy and dreamy from the night before that all I wanted was to pull him into the bed and do it all over again. But while I was eating, he started giving me that fierce look he gets.

  “'Why did you try to swim out there, last night?' he said. 'Were you going to him, to his ship? Because he is a prince?'

  “I looked at him like—'who?' Because I'd really forgotten about the yacht in the harbor. But then I didn't want to tell him how suicidal and desperate I'd felt when I dove in the water, because he'd think I was crazy. That was the last thing I wanted. I mean, at this point, I wanted to have this man's children. In my mind I was already living on a kibbutz somewhere raising oranges and dozens of little Israelis (or maple syrup and Canadians or whatever.)

  “He sat down and took both my hands and said, 'I love you.'

  “Just like that. I started tingling al
l over, because nobody in my whole life—except my Papa—ever said that to me. But he went on; calling me an aristocrat and saying how his parents were peasants—'a Cossack and a Jewish laundress.'

  “He wasn't making much sense to me, so I started kissing his hands and was moving on up his arm when his voice got scary and he said. 'This is serious, Regina. I shouldn't be telling you…'

  “'Then don't,' I said. 'I liked it when you called me 'your highness' and all that, but it was just a game. I honestly don't care about the aristocrat stuff. I'm an American. You know—vermin'. I kissed his little finger and started to sing—'M-I-C'; I kissed the second finger. 'K-E-Y'

  “He yanked his hand away and grabbed my chin so I had to look right in his eyes.

  “'They are using the royal presence on the yacht to keep the customs people away,' he said in kind of a whisper. 'That is why they want to go through customs here. Here is more lax than on the mainland. They take arms to Lebanon and trade them for drugs, which are sold in Europe and America. That is what those Lebanese were doing in Amsterdam. They killed Wim because they thought he had turned them in. He had not. He was just stupid.'

  “'I thought those Israelis killed Wim.” I turned away. I didn't like looking at him with his eyes that way.

  “'That is what everyone was supposed to think.' Mikhail let go of my chin, picked up my hand and kissed it.

  “I rubbed my palm against the dark stubble on his cheek.

  “He must have gone into town without shaving, so he wouldn't wake me up.

  “'I want you to promise me you will not get involved with those people—no matter how much he wants you.'

  “'Who wants me?' I was still really confused.

  “'Prince Max. He already knows who you are. He has been looking for you—for someone like you—for a long time. He has a crazy belief that the people of San Montinaro, who are descended from the ancient Etruscans, are the only pure Europeans, except for the Finns and the Magyar. Indo-Europeans are Wog invaders, to him.'

  “'And I'm a Magyar, so I'm pure?' It sounded stupid to me, and I have to admit I wasn't paying that much attention. I was much more interested in the little bit of chest hair that showed in the V of his shirt.

  “'Magyar aristocracy: a pedigree brood mare,' he said. 'You also happen to be a famous model, and he is trying to launch himself as a fashion designer. You are his dream girl, Regina my love.'

  “I couldn't stand it. I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt and slid my hand inside to feel the muscles of his chest.

  “'What about you, Mikhail? Am I your dream girl?' I let the sheet fall off me as I sat up so he could see I was still naked. One thing about getting fat is I'm getting these fabulous tits. I think he liked that.

  “But a knock on the door totally spoiled the mood. I sank down under the sheet while he went to open it. There were all three Sybils and they'd brought this pretty fat woman with gorgeous, flowing auburn hair.

  “ 'Oh, thank God!' Sybil said. 'It is her, everyone! It's Regina. She's safe.' She seemed to be calling to people at the bottom of the stairs. She threw her arms around me and whispered in my ear. 'Quick. Throw something on, comb your hair, and try not to look quite as much as if you'd spent the last week in bed with the entire Israeli army. I'll tell them you hit your head and got amnesia.'

  “She ran to the window, opened the shutters and called out. “She's found, everyone! She's fine. Her head is much better. She'll give a press conference in a few minutes.”

  “The fat woman nodded at Mikhail as if she knew him and came over and shook my hand. 'I am Titiana,' she said. 'I am the cook of the royal family of San Montinaro. We are so glad you are safe. His Highness invites you to come aboard our friend's ship. Would you like to hold a reception for the press there? Just your friends, of course; Vogue, Elle, Paris Match—perhaps you would like to wear these jeans?' She opened a big tote bag and took out a stack of fancy stretchy jeans. The second pair fit okay, and she gave me a little gauzy blouse to wear with them.

  “And then—it was all so crazy—the Sybils did my hair and make-up and took me outside, where the streets were filled with photographers—even that toad Mario calling out how he loved me—and everybody was asking questions about where I'd been and whether I'd been kidnapped, and I posed for a million pictures. And an hour later I was aboard this incredible yacht, drinking champagne with a bunch of people out of La Dolce Vita.

  “I was so surprised when I finally met the prince. He was kind of sweet and nerdy, and I couldn't picture him being all those things Mikhail said about him. And he didn't put any moves on me at all. In fact, if he was interested in anybody, it seemed to be Titiana, who acts like she's in charge of everything.

  “So I came back here ready to tell Mikhail he was either really paranoid or getting some pretty wrong information, and I found him gone—all his stuff packed and out of here. Mrs. Dimitrios said he'd paid her and left.

  “The bastard didn't even leave a note.”

  Cady heard Helen close the book.

  “And now, I must go,” Helen said. “It will take some time to get through the crowd, and my children will be hungry for dinner.”

  Cady said goodbye and listened to her footsteps go down the stairs. Dinner. She was hungry too. She wondered where Athena and Fatima were. She lay back and mulled over Regina's story and this Mikhail's hints at drugs-and-arms running. The current mess in San Montinaro could have been triggered by that kind of illegal activity. She needed to know who the mysterious “they” were that Mikhail talked about. Was he implying that Prince Max was a co-conspirator or a clueless dupe?

  With sudden clarity, Cady's head filled with one thought: Tyrone. He was flying into that same danger Mikhail had warned Regina about all those years ago. The fairy-tale prince was involved with drug lords and terrorists. Tyrone had to be warned. Now.

  “Fatima!” she called. “Athena!” They didn't seem to hear. She rose from the bed carefully, found the door, opened it and walked out, reaching for the railing at the top of the stairs.

  “Fatima! Where is that cell phone? We have to call Tyrone.”

  She looked over the railing and saw—yes, she did see—clear as a bright sunny day. In the classic 1930's foyer, at the foot of the marble staircase, stood a pretty, plump young black woman with dreadlocks, and another: tall, light-skinned, wearing a long African-style robe, with a green hat on her bald head.

  They were kissing each other. Passionately. Right on the mouth.

  Lesbians. Athena and Fatima were lesbians. Dear Lord in heaven.

  “Reverend?” Athena said. She was the tall woman. “Reverend Cady, what are you doing out of bed?”

  “I'm looking at you two.” Cady let out a laugh she hoped didn't sound too nervous. “Athena, what happened to your hair, girl?”

  But while Fatima exclaimed about the miracle of Cady's restored sight, and Athena said something about Gulf War syndrome and hair loss, all Cady could think was—why was it suddenly everywhere? Freebie and Pinky. Regina had even tolerated it in Max. At least she'd always said she suspected he had “forbidden liaisons”.

  No. Cady stopped herself as a thought hit her. What had Regina said about meeting Prince Max? Nothing to suggest homosexuality.

  What Regina said was: “If Prince Max was interested in anyone, it seemed to be Titiana.”

  Titiana. What if she was Prince Max's “forbidden liaison”? In Max's world, loving someone of the same sex would not be half so shameful.

  Could it be that the fashion designer prince loved a fat woman?

  Regina said, “Titiana nodded at Mikhail as if she knew him”? And she “acted like she was in charge of everything”. She had arrived with those jeans with amazingly serendipitous timing, hadn't she?

  Titiana. Things fell into place in Cady's mind.

  “Reverend? Reverend Cady, are you okay?

  “Yes. I am. I am just fine. But Tyrone may not be. He's flying into more danger than we realized. Where is that phone, child?”
/>   Chapter 40—Regina: Alien Abduction

  Regina lay on the white table and hoped it wasn't true what they said aliens did with that probing thing. She hated that kind of medical exam. It always reminded her of Mr. Finkelstein.

  She looked around the windowless white chamber and listened for clues about her captors. The engines on this spaceship must be totally silent. All she heard, above the faint whir of the ventilation system, were bird chirps and dog barks and strange monkey sounds. Was this some sort of cosmic Noah's Ark?

  Now she heard footsteps outside the door. The aliens were coming back: two this time; one pink and one green. They had no faces, except for those goggly eyes, and funny bulbous heads, sort of squishy-looking. And nail-less, but nearly human hands. The hands were creepy.

  “Good morning, Ms. Doe,” said the green one, in hearty American-accented English. “Are we feeling better this morning?”

  Regina contemplated the question for a moment. Was it a test? Were they trying to find out if she was telepathic? The truth was, of course, that she had no idea how the aliens were feeling this morning. Nor, indeed, did she much care.

  “I hope you're well. I'm fine.” She decided to take her chances with a polite lie.

  Of course she was not fine at all. Her bandaged hands and knees felt as if they'd been sandblasted and her foot throbbed with thick pain. A hole seemed to have been poked into the flesh of her arm, and a tube inserted that was attached to a bottle that hung from a device by the bed. Were they draining blood from her body for some terrible experiment—or some evil alien religious rite?

  At least she was alive. For that she should be grateful to them, she supposed. After all, if their shuttle craft, or whatever it was, hadn't landed on that cliff, and sent that alien who did such a fine job of impersonating her Israeli soldier-lover of long ago, she'd have rolled off and been dead by now, an embarrassing mess splattered on the rocky California coast.

  They were trying to give her more of those pills now. Some sort of space food, she supposed. She hoped it would do something about the hunger. Her stomach felt as empty and dull as this featureless room.