Eating Cupcakes in a Cemetery

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  After the twins left, Gary shrugged and started to explore.

  “Always start at the top,” he said, still holding the bouquet he climbed the stairs. The first door he opened was Bev’s den of disguises. He put the roses down and picked up a fake nose.

  “This is cool. How do you keep this on?” He looked through the make-up accessories scattered on the table and picked up a tube.

  “Glue? Sure, glue makes sense.” He stuck the nose to his face and decided he needed to add some foundation to blend it better to his skin tone. Gary had seen make up ads before; how hard could it be?

  ***

  Luna was impatient; Tony had been writing for some time.

  “Tony, are you writing a novel over there? Stop and show me where you want to go!”

  He stopped writing and said, “You first.” He quickly wrote something else down on his list as Luna was clearing her throat.

  “I want to see the waterfalls of Lake Victoria and camp there until I see a rainbow.”

  Tony grinned. “I have Niagara Falls on my list!”

  “Cool. What else is on there?”

  Tony blushed. “I watch all these nature and mystery shows, you know? So I want to do things like swim with dolphins and see Manatees, but I also want to go to that big crater in Siberia where mammoth bones are being found.”

  Luna smiled encouragingly and Tony rushed on without even looking at his list.

  “And see the Northern lights and blue glaciers and giraffes and hippos and wallabies. Oh! I’d like to see that miniature model of the town in Holland and see acres of tulips and climb Machu Picchu. While we’re in Peru, we could fly over the Nazca lines!”

  Tony stopped for a breath. “But what I think would be really cool to do is to go to Paris and explore the catacombs and see all the bones! Do you know Luna, over six million people are buried there?” He still had more things on his list, but he wanted to see how Luna was going to react.

  She scratched her eyebrow. “You know Tony, we are going to have such fun. You have a passport? Good. First, we have to get our money. Let’s go over to the storage unit now; Carmen doesn’t usually come in until after supper, you said. Is that a hard and fast routine?”

  “Since Serafino died, she’s not herself; so she could even be there now.”

  Luna took the flash drive out of the computer. “This is coming with us; it definitely will help finance our travels.”

  They stopped by the mailbox store and picked up three bags of letters and then drove the short distance to the storage unit.

  Carmen wasn’t there.

  “Which one?” Tony said, holding a tire iron.

  Luna pointed to the right cabinet. “You know Tony, instead of trying to break the lock, why don’t you try to pop the cabinet off the wall? It might be easier.”

  There was an ear-splitting screech as Tony began prying the cabinet off the wall. Luna covered her ears and shouted, “Go, go! You’re doing it.”

  As he applied more pressure, screws started popping out of the storage unit wall until the cabinet had dropped to the floor. He stared at the hole and quickly turned on the flashlight on his phone.

  “Luna,” Tony said slowly, ‘I don’t know how much money that flamingo flash drive was supposed to bring in; but I have a hunch we won’t be needing it.”

  Luna peered inside. “We’re going to need a truck.”

  Tony sat down at the counting table in the main storage unit and started searching. He found what he wanted and pressed the automatic dial feature.

  “I need you to bring a dumpster by to A-1 Storage, off Kingston. How soon can you get it here?”

  Luna was impressed. The saying that clothes make the man was true. Ever since Tony had his makeover, bought his SUV and actually found some sports jackets that fit, he was a different person. More animated; more of a self starter. Luna liked strong men; but had her fill of politicians. Tony was a simpler person and kinder.

  “Why a dumpster?”

  “If the police or anybody is watching this unit, or the next, they won’t be concerned about someone filling up a dumpster. A truck, they might look twice at. Once we put all the duffle bags in the dumpster, we get it delivered to a private garage, then we get the SUV and load it up.”

  “And we just keep your SUV in the garage while we go travelling? We won’t have to worry about banks and being traced that way,” Luna suggested.

  “We could just come back home every few months, get some money and change it to the currency we need for our next trip.”

  Luna, on a whim, a few months ago decided to test out her new identity and see if she could get a passport. She could. She just didn’t have anywhere to go and anyone to go with, now that the Senator was in prison. Luna knew she was supposed to testify down in L.A. about the Senator and his pillow talk detailing the bribes he took from a certain lobbyist; but Tony had changed her mind. This witness protection gig could go take a hike; she was going to see the falls in South Africa!

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Care for a cupcake, Ma’am?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  They were laying in front of their favorite grave marker. Just two women eating cupcakes in a cemetery.

  “This reminds me of the time when Hailey came and talked to me at the Seattle cemetery. She was nice.”

  “Yah?” Belinda was looking at the sky wondering if Hailey was really dating that cute Sean. Did they already do the nasty?

  “Do you think she did it?” Belinda asked her sister.

  “Oh, she did it alright.”

  “No! She slept with Sean?”

  Bev held her cupcake at arm’s length and pretended she was gagging. “Are you kidding? Sean would never sleep with her! I was talking about killing that jerk Serafino. She told me she did it.”

  Belinda sat bolt upright and, in the process, dropped her cupcake. She looked at it wistfully but left it on the ground.

  “Why on earth would she kill him?”

  “She said he was a jerk to keep bugging me the way he did. Plus she was bored. Do you know Bell, that he would break into my motel room everyday and leave me gifts? The first time he left me a really cheap bathmat and a card. I threw the card out.”

  “But why would she kill him? She had her whole career ahead of her; why risk that?”

  “Um, Belinda? Her career as Manager-in-training was hardly a showstopper; but I guess that’s all she could get when she got out of prison.”

  “You couldn’t get in the FBI if you were in prison. How do you know Hailey killed Serafino?”

  It was Bev’s turn to suddenly sit upright. “Hailey killed Serafino? Huh. Good old Maggie told me she did.”

  ***

  She did it! She was on a plane to Australia! Course she had to leave most of the money behind, but still, it was in a safe place. Her Mom had agreed to hide the duffle bag in her attic, in a box labelled “Suzanne’s baby stuff.” How cute was that?

  Suzanne’s first stop was the Sydney Opera House. She wanted to experience real opera up close and personal and erase all thoughts of Vincent and Serafino out of her mind. Then she was going to rent an apartment and just relax for a month or two before she decided her next move.

  As Suzanne was arranging her blanket and pillow, she realized she owed her new life to that feisty redhead. “I’ll send Bev a program from the Marriage of Figaro.” Then she remembered she had stolen over three hundred thousand dollars from Bev. Maybe I should send her a CD and a shirt too she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  “Hailey did not kill Serafino; there’s no way. So how do you know for sure that Maggie did?” Belinda picked up a new cupcake and turned so she didn’t see the dead one.

  “Before I went out dancing Wednesday night, she told me.” Bev had another drink from her bottle and picked up another cupcake; after all, Belinda had just taken another one. A couple walked by and Bev held out the pastry box to them. They increased their pace to nearly running.
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  “No cupcakes? I suppose a drink would be out of the question?” she hollered after them. Bev turned back to her sister. “You know what I find amazing, Bell?”

  “That some people won’t accept cupcakes from two drunks in a graveyard?”

  Bev nodded. “Okay; that too, but what I find amazing is how my memory gets better the more I drink.”

  “Think about it Bevy. What is on the end of the word whiskey?”

  “Key! That’s it. Whiskey is the key to my brain box. Do you know Bell, that Maggie is not the nice little old lady she appears to be? She told me she roofied her husband’s mistress and then shot her and then sent a text to her hubbie. She was trying to set him up for the murder, but it backfired.”

  “The gun?”

  “No the text. She signed the text with the girlfriend’s name but sent it from her own phone. Her husband knew something was up because nobody signs a text. He had the police go in the house. Long story short; dead woman in the bed and Maggie in the old crowbar hotel.”

  “So Serafino?”

  “Oh no; I’d never go out with him. Besides, he’s dead.”

  ***

  The doorbell rang. Gary tried to take his fake nose off, but it was stuck on pretty firmly, so he grabbed a wig, threw it on his head and raced down the stairs. In Gary’s mind the wig would help balance out the nose. The twins were probably too blitzed to open the door, so he better get down there quickly to let them in.

  A man holding a badge in his hand stood there.

  “Don Halverson, Assistant Deputy Director, FBI. I’m looking for Hailey Peterson. Is she here?”

  Gary had no idea who Hailey Peterson was, but his disguise made him feel bold. He lied. “No; she left this morning for, uh, where was it?” Gary thought frantically and could only come up with the name of his hometown. “Oh yeah, Seattle. Apparently, she had some unfinished business there.”

  Don slapped his forehead. “Not again.” He turned and left without another word.

  Gary locked the door. He was over the moon with happiness.

  “I can lie after all!” he said. “All I need is a disguise.” He went back upstairs to the room he had just left. He had seen some men’s clothes hanging on racks and he was inspired.

  As he sorted through the clothes, he reasoned, now that I know I can lie; I’ll just put on a suit and inform Helen about the sad and sudden death of Gary Chorney. Better yet, I’ll send the twins.

  ***

  “Should we open the other cabinets?” Tony asked. He was overwhelmed and fell back to his old habit of asking for direction, instead of relying on his own gut instinct.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we should leave the rest for Carmen.”

  “Sounds good. When is that dumpster supposed to arrive; I’m a little worried about Carmen showing up.”

  “Luna, you know what they say; patience is a virtue.”

  She went over and held his hands. “Okay, Tony, let’s be virtuous and wait it out. Once the dumpster arrives, we stop being virtuous and rip Carmen off.”

  “At least we can say we tried.”

  Luna laughed and laughed. Not only was Tony gaining confidence, he was pretty funny. A perfect travelling companion.

  ***

  The day shift hadn’t shown up, so Margaret had simply turned on the no vacancy sign and went to sleep on the cot in the back room. Some idiot though, was ringing the bell at the front desk.

  “Go away,” she yelled. “We’re closed.”

  “I have a complaint,” a voice yelled back.

  “I don’t want it!”

  The bell continued to ring.

  Margaret pulled her bulk off the cot and stumbled out to the front desk to talk to a florid faced middle-aged woman. “What’s your complaint? And hon, it better be a good one.”

  “This guy knocked on my door and when I opened it, he barged right in. I could have been entertaining guests for heaven’s sake!”

  A braying laugh filled the small lobby. “Hon, what you’ve been doing in there is not called entertaining. What happened? Did he steal your little black book?”

  “No, he went under my bed and ripped something off the box spring and then left. Now what are you going to do about it?”

  Margaret found her cigarettes and lit one. “Absolutely nothing. You can phone the police if you like. I’m sure they’d be happy to come to your room and investigate.”

  The woman knew Margaret was serious. The irate woman also knew she didn’t want the police investigating her room. They might discover her entertaining business.

  “Well I never!” she said and stomped out of the lobby.

  “Yes you have!” Margaret hollered after her.

  The Manager-in-training looked at the motel register. Wouldn’t you know it, it was Bev’s old room. That redhead had more people looking for her than I’ve got pimples on my arse, Margaret thought. I wonder if Gary found her?

  Margaret couldn’t go back to sleep. She continued to think about Bev. It seemed Bev had hit the jackpot with Gary. Bev had come back to the motel about two weeks ago singing and giggling all about her new boyfriend. Sure she was drunk, but she seemed really happy for a change. Then she soured.

  “So evil Helen is blackmailing Gary. I think I should go down and talk to her!” Bev had told Margaret.

  “What are you going to say?”

  “Back off lady; get your own sandwich!”

  Margaret agreed it was a good idea and off Bev went. It wasn’t until much later Margaret found out that Bev was heading to Eureka, about ten hours away, to confront Helen. How Bev drove there, was a mystery known only to the deity that protected drunks and the people driving on the road with them.

  The next night, about two weeks ago, two men showed up and asked about Bev. Both were good looking, but one was arrogant and had a creepy way about him. The word ‘slimy’ immediately came to Margaret’s mind. The other man was nice but timid. The slimy one went to Bev’s room and knocked on the door but of course she wasn’t there as she had gone to Eureka the night before.

  Both men waited in the parking lot for hours then left. The slimy one showed up the next day and introduced himself as Serafino and attempted to woo Bev who had somehow driven all night and again, returned home safe.

  Later, Bev told Margaret she had turned Serafino down flat.

  During the next couple of weeks this Serafino Napoleone showed up every night. He figured that he would wear Bev down with daily gifts. Serafino would breeze into the lobby, wink at Margaret, and say “Is she in? I trying to win a bet!”

  He knew Bev wasn’t in, but he just liked to yank Margaret’s chain. He not only told Margaret he was going to break in; he would come back afterwards and gloat while talking about himself in the third person. “Who’s the guy with everything going on? Serafino Napoleone that’s who. Two, four, six, eight; who should you appreciate? Serafino, Serafino, that’s who!”

  It was a wonder Margaret didn’t puke on his shoes.

  And every night, when Bev eventually came home from the cemetery, she would discover her room had been broken into again and some weird gift would be left for her. A bathmat, a coffee mug, a red bra and always some sappy romantic card.

  Last Wednesday was the last straw for Margaret. Serafino had waltzed in and completely ignored Margaret’s warnings that she would call the police if he harassed Bev one more time.

  He had poked Margaret in the nose with his gun. Serafino loved his gun; he was always flashing it around. “Look fatso, I will do what I want to do. I told Gary I would win this bet by bedding his girl and I’m going to. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it old lady.”

  Margaret was incensed and decided she would go ahead with a plan she had been toying with for a few days. If she was caught, prison life wasn’t so bad. At least she could get a decent night’s sleep.

  Plus, she felt sorry for Bev. Every night, Bev had come back from the cemetery, crying away about Gary. She had given Gary the ca
rd from the motel and she was waiting and why doesn’t he show up? Margaret began going to the cemetery and sitting with Bev for awhile and then helping her to walk back to the motel.

  Serafino dismissed Margaret as old and fat, but she had a trick or two up her sleeve. After Serafino went to Bev’s room to break in and leave another cheap gift, she made him a special drink for when he came back to gloat.

  “Have a whiskey, Serafino. You did it again,” she had said last Wednesday night.

  “Yes I did. This time I left her a bag of underwear. Women like that always need underwear.” He drank the whiskey in one gulp.

  Margaret tried not to frown. Women like that need underwear? Who did this jerk think he was? She then started the next part of her plan.

  “Actually Serafino; you really did it. Bev is waiting for you.”

  “She’s not there old lady; I was just in her room.”

  “No she’s waiting for you in the cemetery down the road. She wants to play a sexy little game with you.”

  Serafino smiled wickedly. Margaret thought he looked positively reptilian.

  “She wants you to go to a gravestone marked ‘Thelma Honeyford’ and take off all your clothes and wait there until she surprises you with her red bra and um, bathmat to lay on.”

  Serafino had taken off like a shot.

  Margaret put up the no vacancy sign and followed him leisurely. She watched from a distance, as he found the gravestone and took off all his clothes. He was getting noticeably clumsy. The rohypnol she had put in his drink was taking effect. He was standing looking around for a few minutes, but then decided to sit down and lean against the tombstone. That’s when Margaret calmly approached him and took his gun out of his clothes. He looked very confused just before Margaret shot him dead.

  He looked rather less confused afterwards.

  Margaret didn’t feel remorseful after she shot him but thought that nobody should die naked. She dressed him again.

  “There ya go slick,” she said to him, “Just as good as new.” Margaret looked at the nice shiny diamond in his ear but resisted the impulse to take it. She knew another word for the earring would be evidence if the police found her with it. Instead, she took off one of his shoes and stuck the gun in it.