Hey, Good Looking

by Fern Michaels

  Darby decided to shake it since she really wasn’t that interested in who was visiting the aunts at eight o’clock in the morning. She had other things to think and worry about.

  Diddy woke first, startled that she was still on the front porch. She looked over at her two sisters, who, like her, had slept in their chairs. She looked down at her watch and groaned. Eight o’clock. If she looked half as messy as her sisters, she was in bad shape. “Wake up!” she shrilled.

  Dodo jumped to her feet, startled and a bit disoriented. Ducky half rolled off her chair before she managed to slide backward.

  “I should kill you for screeching like that,” Dodo said.

  “Yeah, she should kill you. What the hell is wrong with you, Diddy? I can’t believe we slept out here all night.” Ducky groaned as she rubbed her lower back.

  “We have company,” Diddy hissed. “No one in Baton Rouge wears that kind of suit at this time of year. And they don’t wear sunglasses at eight o’clock in the morning either. I think this might be serious.”

  “It’s the feds. They’re cloned to look alike. Let me do the talking, and for God’s sake remember what I told you,” Dodo snarled as she struggled to wake up fully.

  “What? What did you tell us?” Diddy wailed.

  “Act stupid,” Dodo hissed in return. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

  The two men looked alike, meaning they were tall, slim, and dressed in suits with white shirts and striped ties. “FBI. I’m Special Agent Drew Warner, and this is Special Agent John Stephens.”

  “Yeah, right, and I’m Madonna. This,” Dodo said, pointing to Diddy, “is Cher, and this,” she continued, pointing to Ducky, “is Barbara Walters. Do you think we’re stupid? FBI my foot. You’re from our competitor, Fine Beer, Inc. FBI, get it? Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I have to admit, you guys have some nerve to come here. Everyone knows you’re floundering. No one wants beer that’s made in one central location. Your operation is nothing more than a fad. Our beer is our beer, and the family plans on keeping it that way. That’s another way of saying we don’t want to buy your rinky-dink operation on Canal Street, so stop asking and buzz off. Now, get off our property before I call the cops.”

  Diddy, remembering her instructions, let her head roll to the side, her right arm dangling in the tub of melted ice. She picked up one of the empty beer bottles and blew into it for no good reason. Then she closed one eye and squinted into the empty bottle before she dropped it back in the tub. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. She wanted to scream her head off, but Ducky took that moment to slide off the chair onto the floor. She started to laugh.

  Dodo turned around to stare at her sisters. It was hard not to laugh, too. She turned back to the agents. “It’s early. We don’t usually get up till noon. Please leave.”

  “We are not from…Fine Beer, Inc. We’re from the FBI. Federal Bureau of Investigation.” One of the “twins” flashed a badge for Dodo’s benefit.

  “I’m still Madonna. I still don’t believe you. But just in case you are who you say you are, you should go after those imbeciles who thought they were going to put Lane Beer out of business by brewing beer on a storefront. Ha! Now they want us to buy them out. Ha!”

  The second agent whipped out a small notebook. He shook his head as though to clear away a bad image. “Which one of you ladies is Harriet Lane?”

  “Me! I am Harriet Lane. I was Harriet Lane when you woke me up,” Ducky trilled as she rolled over on her stomach and proceeded to kick her legs up and down. “My friends call me Ducky, but you can call me Harriet,” Ducky trilled again.

  The agent winced as he scribbled in his notebook. “Which one of you is Vivian Lane?”

  “Why do you want to know?” Diddy said as she upended another empty beer bottle. Instead of putting it back into the tub she said, “Why don’t we all play spin the bottle? We haven’t played that since…since last night. Actually, I’m Barbara Walters, but you can call me Diddy. No, no, just call me BaBa.”

  “I guess that must mean you’re Lydia Lane,” the agent with the notebook said, pointing his pen at Dodo.

  “Aka Madonna. You aren’t fooling us one little bit. Now, if you don’t get off this porch, I’m going to have totake you out myself.”

  The jaws of both agents dropped as Dodo did a high pirouette and let loose with a wild, wicked, “Yeow!” Her arms and feet went in different directions as she socked one-two punches in all directions. When the agents’ jaws dropped even farther, Dodo said, “I could kill you both in thirty seconds. What’s it gonna be? You can be arrested for impersonating officers of the law.”

  The agents looked at each other. “Just out of curiosity, ma’am, what do you think we’ll be doing while you’retrying to kill us?” He sounded like he really wanted to know, infuriating Dodo. Sometimes people didn’t take her seriously.

  “Dying,” Dodo said dryly. “There won’t be a mark on you either. Are you going to leave, or should I bring it to a test?”

  “A test, a test!” Diddy and Ducky squealed in unison. “We haven’t had a test in a long time. Can you do it in twenty-five seconds? I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can do it in twenty-five seconds,” Ducky said, gazing at the bloodred polish on her toenails.

  “Two hundred if you can do it in twenty seconds,” Diddy chirped.

  “How about fifteen?” Dodo shouted.

  Both agents scampered down the steps and ran to the top of the Horseshoe. The sisters ran into the house and collapsed on the floor.

  “They’re just going to come back,” Ducky gurgled.

  “We’re crazy,” Diddy cried.

  “No, we’re not crazy. Wefooled the FBI. We really did!”

  16

  Brandon Lautril rarely if ever made a mistake but he was thinking he’d just made the Queen Mother of all mistakes where this case was concerned. He should have left his position in the oleander bushes where he’d been hiding all night long before it got light out. Now there was no way to sneak away without being seen. If the gardener showed up, the police would be called, at which point he would have to explain why he was dressed all in black, complete with a black watch cap to cover his silvery hair, and hiding in Mrs. Gunn’s bushes. He chastised himself for being so sloppy.

  He looked down at his watch: six-fifty. Any minute now, the day workers who saw to Bella Gunn’s wants and desires would be arriving.

  He watched then as four different cars chugged up the hill and drove around to the back of the house. He waited five more minutes to see if there were any stragglers. Time to make his move and slither his way down the hill, hoping against hope that he wasn’t spotted. Just as he made his decision he saw a gaggle of women walking up the driveway, when the front door opened to reveal Bella Gunn carrying a bright red satchel. In her haste to get down the steps carrying the heavy bag, she missed a step and landed on her tush, her long skinny legs shooting out in front of her. He heard her let loose a string of obscenities as she tried to right herself. That’s when she noticed the gaggle of women staring at her.

  Brandon continued to watch, mesmerized from his position in the oleanders.

  For one second, Bella Gunn thought she’d died and went to hell as the women approached her. She could tell they’d seen her fall, heard the rough language that spewed from her mouth. How to make this right? “It’s a little early to be visiting, isn’t it, Honoria?”

  “Ah…well, yes, it is, but I like to get an early start on the day. We thought we would pick up the forms since Harriet wasn’t able to stop by yesterday.”

  “Forms? Is that what you said? My husband…and you want…I can’t…”

  Marcus Gunn’s pride and joy—his Bentley—suddenly appeared, driven by the gardener. He got out and held the door open for Bella, who just looked at him. “Where’s the chauffeur?” she screeched.

  The gardener shrugged. “He isn’t here.”

  Bella’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t have a clue how to drive the Bentley. She was already em
barrassed beyond tears. She would be humiliated beyond belief if she climbed into the backseat and…and sat there waiting for a chauffeur who might or might not show up. She steeled herself to stare at the women, who were looking at her like she had sprouted a second head. Was there a way to make this right? Could she still salvage…?

  “Obviously, we’ve come at a bad time, Mrs. Gunn. We…we’ll be in touch,” Honoria said coolly.

  “What about the forms?” Bella said just as coolly.

  “Like I said, we’ll be in touch. You understand, the forms are just for nomination.”

  “Oh, I see. Suddenly you’re changing your mind. My husband…you know what, Honoria, screw your forms, screw you, and screw this town,” she shouted to the women’s retreating backs. The women ignored her as they trooped down the hill.

  “Take this stupid car back to the garage and fetch my Cadillac,” Bella shouted to the frightened gardener.

  Angry tears streamed down Bella’s cheeks as she kicked out at the red satchel. The minute the Cadillac came to a stop, she slung the red case into the backseat and climbed behind the wheel. She sped off, gravel spurting in all directions.

  Brandon waited for a good ten minutes before he stepped out to the driveway and sauntered down the hill to where his car waited.

  Darby stood by the kitchen window, her eyes going to the gazebo where, as a child, she had played with Russ from sunup to sundown. Russ always looked out for her, protected her. She closed her eyes and saw a ten-year-old Russ with a butterfly on his index finger. His face was full of awe at the delicate yellow butterfly. “Look,” he whispered, “it trusts me. It knows I won’t hurt it. Miss McInerny said it’s important to trust people. Do you trust me, Darby?” She remembered how her head bobbed up and down. “That’s good because I trust you more than any person in the whole world.” A second later, Russ had walked over to one of the camellia bushes to transfer the butterfly to one of the shiny, waxy leaves.

  Darby blinked and walked back to the table. She squared her shoulders, wiped at her eyes again, sniffed, and reached for the stack of printouts. “I promised never to betray your trust but through no fault of my own, that’s exactly what I did. I don’t know if reading these papers can make things right or not. I have to go with my heart here.”

  She read slowly and carefully, absorbing everything she read. When she was finished, she had the names of the recipients, the names of the hospitals where the transplants were performed, and the names of the surgeons who performed the operations. What she didn’t have was the family members’ names or the home addresses. Maybe Mickey and Jason could get that information for her.

  Darby reached behind her for the phone. She dialed Russ’s old number from memory. She knew Claire would be up, and she was. She explained what she needed. It was her way of keeping Claire in the loop. Claire said she would take care of it. They made small talk for a few minutes, then Darby hung up the phone.

  Darby’s mind wandered to the day at hand. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought about Ben. She was in love. Big surprise. She’d always been in love with Ben Gunn. Russ had known it, too. Once he’d said that Ben was her destiny but she was too dumb to know it.Well, I know it now, and you were right, Russ, she thought. Would Ben have come back into her life if Russ hadn’t died? Probably not. Then again, maybe when she was too old to care anymore, he might appear.

  She thought about the aunts then. How lonely they were with no men in their lives. Not that a man made a woman’s life complete. They seemed content, yet she knew something was missing. Ducky was searching for companionship and her youth. Diddy still loved Marcus Gunn and would probably go to her grave never having loved another man. Then there was Dodo and the mystery of her life. There was more to Dodo’s life than any of them knew. She felt it in her heart.

  What would marriage to Ben be like? Wonderful, she decided. He wanted what she wanted: a large family, pets, friends, a job to love. Just last night he’d said he couldn’t wait to have a family Christmas. A real family Christmas, where a dog knocked down the Christmas tree, peed on the carpet, and bounded up and down the steps following the kids everywhere they went. He wanted the smells of a home, things baking in the oven, hampers full of clothes waiting to be washed. What he wanted, he said, was disarray. He didn’t want anything perfect. He wanted the screen door to squeak, wanted the windows to stick, the lights to burn out, and the toilets to stop up. He wanted to be with her when she picked out just the right couch that would comfortably fit the two of them and the dogs—until the kids came along. Maybe even a leaky roof. He’d laughed. She’d agreed with him, and he’d hugged her so tight she had to squeal to be set free. Then they’d made love that was so sweet, so gentle, she never wanted it to stop.

  Yessirree, she loved Ben Gunn. With all her heart. Tears rolled down her cheeks. And all this happiness and wonderment was happening because her best friend had died. All because Russ was no longer with them. There were no other options. She had to do what she had to do.

  Darby turned around. Standing in the kitchen doorway, his hair tousled, his eyes full of love, Ben beckoned her to him. She stepped into his arms. “I settled it with myself and with Russell. I know what I have to do. When it’s my turn to goup there, I don’t want to have to make explanations to Russ. I want him to know he didn’t make a mistake in trusting me.”

  Ben kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Wise choice,” was all he said.

  Clean, dressed, and coiffed, the three sisters met up in Diddy’s kitchen. It was a place of comfort for the three of them, filled with treasures from their youth and their lives in general. Diddy was the sentimental one of the three, the nester, the one they came to when they needed hot tea and comfort. Diddy was also the most motherly of the trio.

  When Ducky and Dodo walked into the kitchen it was like they were walking back into their past. The scarred oak table with the colorful place mats was welcoming. Diddy had never made any effort to sand out the gouges or the scars, saying if she did that the table and chairs would have no character, and, besides, their mother and father shared their first married meal at this very table. The centerpiece was a huge ceramic milk jug full of brilliant purple crepe myrtles. Diddy was also the gardener of the three, which made Ducky and Dodo wonder from time to time what exactly they were good at.

  Dodo flopped down. “I’m tired. We need to get our lives squared away so we can get back to normal. I might just be able to make Japan by the skin of my teeth.”

  Ducky’s eyebrows shot upward. Today she had taken the time to put on makeup, and she was dressed in a simple, sleeveless, persimmon-colored dress. Her curly hair was piled high on her head. She looked good, she thought as she stared at her reflection in the glass on the microwave oven door.

  Diddy was wearing a pristine white apron over a simple shirtwaist dress as she bustled about the kitchen. “We’re having eggs Benedict and ham. I have some cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. I know how you like cinnamon rolls, Dodo.”

  “By the way, I cleaned up the front porch, thank you very much.”

  “It’s your porch, you clean it,” Diddy snapped. “Just like this kitchen is mine, and I will clean it when I’m done cooking. Stop whining, Dodo.”

  The sisters glared at one another and were still glaring when the doorbell rang.

  Diddy whirled around. “Oh, God, the FBI can’t be back that quick!”

  “Right,” Dodo said, marching to the front door. A scowl on her face, she opened the door with a flourish. She took a step backward when she saw Brandon Lautril standing on the other side of the screen door. “Please, come in. We were just getting ready to have breakfast. My sister is making eggs Benedict.”

  The detective smiled. “My favorite breakfast in the whole world. I hope you’re inviting me. I also have some excellent breakfast conversation I can share.”

  “By all means,” Dodo said, opening the door for the detective and calling out that they had a guest for breakfast. She noticed Ducky�
��s face turn pink as she led the detective into the kitchen.

  Diddy quickly set another place at the table.

  “Good morning, ladies. Appreciate the offer of breakfast. Please excuse my appearance,” he said, motioning to his wrinkled clothing and the stubble on his face. “I spent the night in the bushes at the Gunn’s house. I was about to leave this morning when a group of ladies arrived just as Bella was coming out the door carrying a red satchel. It looked rather heavy. She took a misstep and landed on her derriere. She let loose with some very choice words that the other ladies heard. It went from bad to worse. To say Mrs. Gunn was embarrassed and humiliated would be putting it mildly. The ladies said they came for the forms Harriet didn’t pick up. When they left they said they would be in touch. Mrs. Gunn streaked off in a Cadillac. I waited a few minutes and then I left. By the way, last night Alice Avery, the hospital volunteer I told you about, called me. This is just gut instinct but I think that’s where Bella Gunn went this morning.”

  Diddy served them one by one, then sat down with her own plate.

  “Well, she’s planning on going somewhere if she packed a bag. Maybe she sees things closing in on her and went to this Alice Avery person to warn her to keep whatever secrets she knows to herself. Or…maybe to make those secrets known. This is just my opinion, but I think she’s coming back. I think you should stake out her house to see what her next move is,” Dodo said.

  Ducky and Diddy agreed.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.

  Dodo suddenly jumped up and clapped her hands. “Did you hear what this man just said? He said Bella is…Bella is leaving. That means all that nastiness up at the shoe will stop. That’s what it means, isn’t it?”

  Brandon stood up. “I think you might be right, Miss Lane. I’m going to go back to the inn to shower and change. I’ll go back to Mrs. Gunn’s house and stake it out. I’ll call Miss Avery on my cell while I’m at the inn. How long do you want me to stake out the Gunn house?”