Eating Cupcakes in a Cemetery

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  “What do you do for fun around here?” Bev asked as she walked around the front room and started looking through the desk drawer. “Other than puzzles and roller-skating that is.”

  The drawer snapped shut on her fingers.

  “You expletive!” she yelled at her sister.

  “This is my house; who gave you permission to snoop through my stuff?”

  “No one of course! So, what are you hiding?”

  Belinda knew that Bev, when she was sober, was the easy going one in the family, while she and her mother had volcano tempers. They would let things build and build and then explode.

  Belinda felt the pressure build inside her. It was none of Bev’s damn business. Yet, Belinda did not want to start screaming and yelling at Bev and create another not speaking rift that could last for years.

  What am I afraid of? Belinda chewed on the inside of her mouth. Bev’s probably going to laugh at me and call me stupid. She looked over at her sister who was slapping her thighs and humming.

  “Okay. Come with me.”

  “Bonus!”

  As the women started climbing the stairs, Bev began a play by play narration to an imaginary television audience.

  “Yes folks, we’ve been invited to Belinda Prudence Nichols’ lair at the top of the stairs.”

  “Oh don’t tell them my middle name,” Belinda whined, “I hate being called Prue. Prue the poo. It stuck with me all through high school.”

  “As it would, don’t you think so you fine folks out in television land?” Bev looked at the non-existent audience. “Don’t bully kids; it’s not nice.” She turned back to Belinda. “Honestly Bell, we both got the cruel teasing. To tell us apart, they called me Pee Nichols and you, Poo Nichols.”

  Belinda sighed. “Well we are identical twins.”

  Both sisters fought hard their entire life to be different from one another; to stand out. It was a by-product at being lumped together as one by their mother. “Sister,” she would say instead of using their name, “Come here.” The twins suspected she could not tell them apart or she had forgotten their names or both.

  “Now we are faced with the choice of four doors on this level,” Bev continued her voiceover. “Which will she choose? Ah! She’s opening the second door. Careful folks, we’re going in; this could get scary. Any children still up should go straight to bed! And we’re in. Belinda, what are these clothes for? Are you running a backstreet thrift shop?”

  “Am I in the shot?” Belinda mugged for the imaginary camera and picked up the narration. “This indeed is my secret lair, and these are my prized disguises. Here is the heart of my den of deception; my cave of camouflage, my…”

  “Oh shut up. I get it. Your study of subterfuge.” Bev picked up an eyepatch. “Have you worn this in public?”

  “Possibly.”

  Bev ran her hands over the latex noses and ears. “I knew you loved make-up, but I had no idea you knew how to do all this!” She bent down and peered at some prints on the mirror.

  “This isn’t you is it?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Oh come on Bell; this is you? A guy with a huge head and bleached dreadlocks?”

  “No, it isn’t. But that is a goal of mine. I just have to decide if I want to twist up my hair that way. It would be a major transformation. I would have to augment my chin and forehead.”

  “And bleach your beautiful hair! Don’t do! I bleached my hair once and turned out orange! I looked like a pumpkin.”

  Belinda pulled down a photo album from the overhead shelf.

  “Here are some of my characters, if you want to see my work.”

  “No I don’t want to see your work. Well, maybe yes, I do, but I want to know what the bleep you are doing with this cross-dressing? Is there a whole part of your life I don’t know about?”

  From somewhere under her sweater, Belinda pulled out a small flask and took a drink. “Several confessions, Bevy, I have not only fallen off the wagon, but I took a running jump and leapt off the wagon while you were sleeping. Confession two, when you lived in Eureka, I used to follow you, just to make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble. You can imagine how that turned out. Two small redheads in the same bar? I stood out like a sore thumb; people kept wanting to introduce me to you. You should see this girl, they’d say, she could be your twin sister. I didn’t want you to know what I was up to, so I started disguising myself. At first it was just wearing wigs and stuff; but then I got into it and decided to try to disguise myself as a guy.”

  Bev reached for the flask and Belinda gave it to her.

  “You were following me? I can’t believe it. You’re what, a whole nine minutes older than me and you, with nine whole minutes of extra wisdom, thought you could keep me safe? I’m a drunk, Bell. Trouble is my middle name!”

  Belinda smirked, “And you may not know this, but sarcastic and rude are your first and last names. So many times you would get drunk and then rip into someone. I had to go and buy drinks to get the people you pissed off to calm down. Let’s just say it was a really good thing you moved to Seattle.”

  The sisters had walked downstairs and were again pouring themselves drinks out of the vinegar jug.

  “But I haven’t lived in Eureka for five years. Why do you keep dressing up?”

  Belinda cracked up laughing. “You want to know how I got sober the first time? It wasn’t any great introspection or being sick and tired of being sick and tired; I was banned from every bar in town thanks to you. They all thought I was you and as soon as they’d see me, they’d yell “Out!”

  “Just to use my ever so ready sarcasm, did they close all the liquor stores in Eureka too?”

  Belinda gave a derisive snort. “Oh Bevy, everybody knows you shouldn’t drink alone. At home. By yourself. So I was sober for awhile; but then I got that squiggly feeling in my skin; you know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

  “As you so kindly put it, I’ve been pretty much drunk for the last nine years, but I know what you’re talking about.” Bev walked over to the birdcage and started poking at the flamingo. “When life is so boring you just have to jazz it up. The quiet gets to you and every tiny noise in the house, every creak makes you mad for some reason. You can’t sleep you can’t eat; you just have to go where it’s loud and noisy. Heah Bell, this flamingo’s bum comes off. Huh.”

  “Let’s see that thing. Wait. It’s a flash drive, Bev.”

  “Oh no it’s not. I threw it on the ground, but there was no smoke.”

  “You’re thinking of flash powder.”

  Bev snapped her fingers. “That’s what Gary said at the Tipsy Leprechaun!”

  Belinda tried to turn on her computer by pressing her finger on the button, but she kept missing.

  “You do it,” she told her sister.

  Quick as a whip, Bev leaned over and pressed her index finger to the keyboard. The computer immediately backlit the keys and came on.

  “Cool!” they both said in unison.

  “Okay, let’s put this baby in and see what happens.”

  ***

  “Suzanne; Suzanne, baby, is that you?” Vincent asked, his voice high pitched with excitement. “I paid the ransom, baby, but I didn’t hear from you. The kidnapper texted me with your picture and said don’t go to the cops. I didn’t. I left the money where they said, and I’ve been waiting and waiting. I can’t eat; I can’t sleep. Do you know I’ve lost over twenty pounds? How are you baby?”

  “I escaped Vincent. It was horrible. But, about the money, you said you paid the money? Where exactly did you leave it?”

  “Under the bench outside that Irish pub…squirrelly shenanigans or something like that. I left it in a grey duffle bag I, uh, just happened to have. Were you hurt, Suze?”

  Suzanne was reading the takeout menu from a Chinese Food place; she thought she’d try something different and wasn’t really listening to Vincent.

  “What? Oh yes, it was terrible; I can’t really talk about it. So, did y
ou see who picked up the duffle bag?”

  “I saw a guy; I told him, this is for Suzanne and I left.”

  “Was it a man or a woman? What color hair did they have?” Suzanne had not made any sort of arrangement with a guy. She was frantic.

  “Wait, I hear my wife coming back from Bingo. Talk later.”

  After Vincent hung up, memories of many such abrupt hang-ups came flooding back to Suzanne. Things were going to change, she thought. No, things had changed. The FBI were investigating her ‘kidnapping’. They had phoned her.

  She had to find that redhead Bev. What was her last name? Suzanne thought back two weeks ago when this whole stupid thing began. She started to remember bits and pieces of the drunken night at the pub. Didn’t they exchange numbers? Suzanne remembered writing something down on a piece of paper and giving it to the Bev. Bev did the same thing in return.

  Suzanne got up and grabbed her large purse and dumped it on the table. The contents overflowed and fell on the floor. There were many folded pieces of paper to go through. They all seemed to be flyers for Vincent’s latest charity promotion.

  Suzanne smiled and thought of how Vincent always joked with her and called her purse a suitcase. Well screw Vincent. She was going to track down this chick and get her money back. Suzanne turned the TV on and started going through the notes.

  “And in other news today, the FBI have issued a press release about a local businessman, Serafino Napoleone, killed two nights ago in Seattle Washington. Anyone with information about his death are asked to contact Don Halverson…”

  Suzanne looked up and saw an old mug shot of Serafino staring back at her.

  “This is not happening,” she whispered as everything fell from her hands.

  ***

  “So, do you break legs like Serafino did?” Luna asked Tony as they sat close together at the table.

  “My cousin Serafino did not break legs!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He might have smashed kneecaps and broke fingers, but never legs. Actually, I didn’t see him do anything violent; but he told me all about it. I didn’t do anything violent myself.” Tony scratched his head. “I did try to kill someone Thursday morning, up in Seattle; but I missed.”

  Luna looked at him. He really was a big teddy bear. She had her fill of sophisticated men and wannabe gangsters; this Tony was so easy to talk to. He seemed to have a real childlike innocence about him. She could overlook a murder here or there, she had before.

  “Oh I see; but have you actually killed anyone?”

  “Not yet. Like I said, I’m not really a violent person.”

  Luna was confused. “But wasn’t your job to go with your cousin the enforcer, to get the money owed your Aunt Helen, the loan shark?”

  “It was.” Tony sighed unhappily. “I’m going to miss Fino. He was my best buddy. He was the one who taught me to just stand in front of people and don’t smile. See, sometimes when we would go to collect money from Aunt Helen’s customer, they would just see me and pee their pants. I thought it was funny and would start laughing. Fino told me not to laugh so I would look scary.”

  Luna smiled. “Your job was to just stand in front of people? I agree with you; you’re not a violent person. Your cousin Serafino really looked out for you. Carmen told me they have four children? Was he a good Dad?”

  Tony shifted uncomfortably in his chair because, one, it was too small and two, he didn’t want to talk bad about his dead cousin.

  “Never mind Tony, don’t answer that. How about this, does this money come in like this all the time?”

  “All the time. Bags and bags of it. I think it’s because of this; look.” He took one of the flyers that had surrounded a donation and pointed to the graphic. “See, I suggested to Serafino that he put a picture of a twenty-dollar bill right under the fold so people would get the idea. A subliminal suggestion I think it’s called.”

  Luna clapped her hands. “That was brilliant!”

  “I also told him to put those press and stick strips on the flyers and postage. It was super expensive; but he had collected a lot of money for Auntie Helen and just didn’t give it to her. Plus, he got some from his mistress. But the bulk of it came from a guy over in Reno.”

  “Wow. You really were the brains behind the operation. But didn’t your Aunt get suspicious when the money wasn’t turned it?”

  Tony got up and stretched. He really was a big and tall man, Luna thought appreciatively.

  “I don’t know how Serafino worked it out with Auntie Helen. Maybe she still doesn’t know and I’m not going to tell her. I quit working for her tonight.”

  Luna had an idea. If Tony did in fact make all those suggestions, there was more to him then met the eye. He just needed to trust himself. Gain more confidence. Yes, all he needed was the right encouragement. Luna could supply that. In return, Tony was going to supply lots and lots of money. Bags of it, from the sound of it.

  ***

  Belinda leaned back on the couch. She had looked at the spreadsheet that popped up when the flash drive initiated on her computer. She had tried hard to make sense of it for about four solid minutes.

  “My initial enthusiasm in doing computer stuff has waned. Do you want to go to a bar? If you were singing in one a few weeks ago, they must have forgotten about you.”

  “I have a better plan. How about we invite Melvin out for a beer and just kill him in the parking lot?”

  “Capital suggestion. How would we kill him?”

  Bev ran into the spare bedroom and came out with a gun. “I found this in the trunk of my car inside a shoe. We can use this.”

  Belinda sat up. “If I was sober, I would be appalled and would go to the basement and roller skate myself into oblivion so I would be too exhausted to feel anything. But because I have been drinking, I am seriously considering you suggestion. What about mother dear?”

  “Oh, no, we can’t kill her.”

  “Are you getting sentimental on me?”

  “No, I just think she would suffer more than we ever did, if we kept her alive and grieving Melvin for the rest of her life.”

  “Wow. How do you come up with these ideas?”

  Bev shrugged. “Oh it’s nothing; I have several squirrels running around in my brain. They just pop out ideas for me.”

  “That are absolutely nuts! Am I right? Your ideas are nuts!” Belinda started to laugh and couldn’t stop. The twins would just about stop laughing when one or the other of them would say “Nuts!” and they would start laughing again.

  Finally Belinda asked Bev, “So did you shoot this Serafino guy?”

  “Possibly.”

  They kept drinking.

  “Don’t I have the most beautiful door in the world?” Belinda said then passed out. Her sister was already snoring.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday morning, Sean woke up with a killer hangover. He had lost Miss Hailey to that slick guy Jamal. They were gone by the time he returned to the parking lot last night.

  He left his car at the pub, because Mr. Sean W. Johnson was a very responsible spy, and walked to a nearby motel. He looked around his motel room in the light of day.

  “Very good cleaners,” he pronounced as he started the coffee machine and downed two extra strength pain tablets.

  “Perhaps tonight you should not drink so much,” his Grandmother advised when he phoned her to report his progress.

  “This is a very good idea Grandmother. I do not think my head could take another morning like this! Also my heart. I have lost Miss Hailey to her partner again.”

  “That Jamal! He does no work but takes all the credit.”

  Sean had informed his Grandmother of his observations of the two FBI agents while they stayed at the Shady Rest Motel. She really didn’t like Jamal.

  “He is stealing your happiness. I think you should shoot him with Parmella’s gun. They will say it is a mugging.”

  “No Grandmother, the Manager of the Shady Rest Motel is not
allowed to kill people. Mr. Sean W. Johnson, helpful informant to the FBI is not allowed to kill people. Also, Miss Hailey Peterson would no doubt take a dim view of a murderer; not husband material she would say.”

  “Or she would be impressed that you got rid of him for her.”

  Sean was silent. “That might also be true. Once I have my thinking ability back; I will think about this. Good day Grandmother.”

  He didn’t have anywhere to be until later that evening. Sean found staying cooped up in the motel room mind numbingly boring. His days were normally filled with bookings and checkouts, repairs and trouble shooting typical and not so typical requests from guests. Like the time Miss Beverly wanted him to install a roller-skating rink in her room. He declined.

  Maybe he could go hang out in the lobby and listen in on the conversations? No! He was a man of action. He decided to go grocery shopping.

  Sean walked out the door and into Hailey.

  She continued to hold her hand up as she was about to knock on his door.

  “Miss Hailey! You have found me!”

  “I figured you were so hammered you just found the nearest motel and crashed. I must say I was pleased to find your car at the pub.”

  “Yes I am a very responsible FBI informant.”

  “Um, Sean, could we not mention the FBI?”

  “Please, let me buy us a lot of coffee and you can tell me why you no longer like the FBI. Did they suspend you for knocking boots and for trying to find Beverly Nichols?”

  Hailey stared up at Sean. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “You are no longer carrying a gun in a shoulder holster. Plus you are no longer dressing like a robot in a brown suit. Today you look like the beautiful woman you are.”

  They got in Hailey’s car and drove to Starbuck’s. Hailey was intrigued and prodded Sean for more of his observations.

  “First, you must taste this, Miss Hailey. It has lavender flavoring and is heavenly.” After she had taken a sip, Sean continued. “To me, today’s outfit is saying, I am no longer trying to fool anybody into believing that I am straitlaced and doing my job and nothing else. In Seattle, you were trying too hard to be professional. Today, you are giving yourself permission to be your sexy self.”