The Saucy Lucy Murders

by Cindy Keen Reynders

“Bruce?” Aunt Gladys fiddled with the large, square topaz ring on her right ring finger.

  Lexie spoke in an authoritative voice. “Your son Bruce. He’s in Singapore right now. You’ll be fine here with me. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “What’s going on?” Gabe asked.

  Lexie took her hand off the receiver and whispered into it, “It’s my aunt; she’s a little confused.”

  “Leslie, Leslie …” Aunt Gladys still looked lost for a minute, and then she smiled and said, “Why, of course, now I remember where I am, dearie. Why are you shouting? I haven’t lost my mind just yet. May I use your blender?”

  From loony to lucid, all in a split second. Lexie was amazed. “What for?”

  “I need to make my power breakfast drink. I have it every morning.”

  “Sure. It’s right there on the counter.”

  Aunt Gladys tottered toward the refrigerator. Whistling yet another show tune, she dug through the contents and dumped eggs and milk into the glass container. Then she removed a small packet from her robe pocket and poured it in the blender as well.

  “Lexie,” Gabe said sternly in Lexie’s ear. “Tell me what you found out when you went to Houdini’s Hideout.”

  At that exact moment, Aunt Gladys flipped on the blender. Between the old woman’s whistling and the blender’s whirring, Lexie could barely hear herself think. She grinned, glad for Aunt Gladys’ well-timed obnoxiousness. “Uh, I have to go now,” she said loudly into the telephone.

  “I can barely hear you,” Stevenson shouted.

  “We must have a bad connection,” Lexie told him. “Thanks for calling.”

  She hung up, relieved to be rid of the intrusive cop. Her nostrils twitched at a strange odor and she glanced at Aunt Gladys. “What on earth are you making?”

  “I told you, it’s my power drink. It makes me feel like I’m 20 again.” She poured the liquid into a clear glass, sat down at the table and began to chug-a-lug.

  Lexie grimaced at the oatmeal-colored concoction. She decided she’d rather feel a 150 years old than consume that barf. “We’re going to dinner tonight, Aunt Gladys. Do you have something decent to wear?”

  “Of course, I do. Your aunt is no common chippie.” She nodded at the crock-pot. “What’s cooking?”

  “Pot roast for Monday’s soup special.”

  “Soup special?” Aunt Gladys thumped her chest and burped.

  Lexie wrinkled her nose. “Lucy and I run a restaurant here. I named it after Mom: The Saucy Lucy Café. I use a lot of her special recipes.”

  “How nice. The preacher’s wife has a restaurant named after her.” Aunt Gladys took another sip of her drink, leaving a film of the substance on her upper lip. “What’s the occasion for going out to dinner? You tired of your own cooking?”

  “Eva’s taking me out for my birthday.” Lexie took her coffee and sat down at the table with Aunt Gladys.

  “Ah, little Eva. She still have those precious strawberry blond pigtails? I should go out and buy her some pretty ribbons and maybe a doll.”

  “Eva’s eighteen years old now, Aunt Gladys. She’s not into ribbons and dolls anymore, though it’s a nice thought.”

  “Hell’s bells. The girl’s all grown up.” Aunt Gladys shook her head. She reached toward the middle of the table and picked up the ceramic salt and pepper shakers shaped like tiny poodles. They had also belonged to Lexie’s mother. “She got any beaus?”

  “She dates off and on. But there’s no one steady.” Lexie wondered if the poodles were long for this world since Aunt Gladys, who had a slight problem with kleptomania, had taken a fancy to them. She made a mental note to hide the poodles and put out a cheap set of shakers.

  “I see. What about you? Does Junior still live here or did you finally kick him out?”

  “You mean Dan?”

  “No. I knew you dumped that scum-sucking turd a long time ago. I’m talking about the boy-man. I thought I heard him on the roof last night, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “I don’t know anything about a boy-man, Aunt Gladys. You probably just heard the wind.”

  Aunt Gladys shook a finger at Lexie. “I know what I know, Missy. And one way or another, we’ll have to do something about Junior if he keeps stomping around on the roof.”

  Lexie rubbed her forehead, already tired of dealing with Aunt Gladys’ delusions. And the woman had barely been home 24 hours. “Sure, Aunt Gladys. If Junior becomes a problem, I’ll call someone out here to get rid of him.”

  “Very well, then.” Aunt Gladys sipped at her foul-smelling drink. “He ran off with another woman, didn’t he?”

  “Who? Junior?”

  “No, silly. Dan. I knew he couldn’t be trusted.”

  “You only met him at the wedding and a few other times. How did you know?”

  “His eyes, dearie. I could always see the shiftiness in his eyes.” Aunt Gladys cackled. “He’s a liar, that one.”

  “I wish I’d seen it coming,” Lexie said. “Could have saved myself a lot of heartbreak.”

  “Your Dan is a bastard, that’s for sure,” Aunt Gladys said. “I told your mother he was no good. She knew it and so did your father. But no one could convince you.”

  “I know,” Lexie said, miserable. “I ruined my life by marrying him.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks! You just made a mistake. You’ll survive. And you’re much better off without him, I say. Dan-the-flim-flam-man. That’s all he was.”

  Lexie chuckled, warming to Aunt Gladys, despite her demented ways. “I suppose you’re right. But he’s making Eva miserable. He hasn’t talked with her in months.”

  Aunt Gladys shrugged. “She’ll survive, too. There’s nobody who gets through this life without dealing with a few hard knocks. Lord knows I’ve had enough of my own.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “Did you know I’ve been married seven times?” Aunt Gladys burped again. “Half of the old farts up and died on me and the other half I divorced. You’ll find yourself another man soon enough, dearie. Like they say, there’s lots of fish in the sea.”

  Lexie tapped the side of her coffee cup, glad the horrible fake nails had loosened and fallen off weeks ago. “Not a lot of eligible men in this town, I’m afraid. And I’m not sure I want to suffer with the antics of another testosterone junkie.”

  “Ah, one will come along before you know it and snap you right up. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t know that I want a man to snap me up.?

  “Of course you do. All women do. You just need to find the right one. And when it’s right, it’s right.”

  “All I know is that every time I date a man, they wind up dead. Murdered. It’s happened twice now, Aunt Gladys.”

  “Murders in Moose Creek Junction?” Aunt Gladys batted her dark eyes.

  “That’s right.”

  Aunt Gladys licked at the filmy mustache on her upper lip. “Well, you are related to me, dearie. As I said before, I had a lot of men die on me, too.”

  “But were they murdered?”

  “Who knows? A couple of them were into the mob. Someone could have put hits out on them.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

  As difficult as it must have been, Lexie imagined Aunt Gladys had grown accustomed to losing husbands since she’d had so many. She was a salty old gal for sure.

  “No more talk about people dying,” Aunt Gladys insisted. “I know what we need.”

  “What’s that?” Lexie sipped her coffee, which by now had gone cold.

  “A hairdo from Winkie. If he’s still in town, that is.”

  “Winkie? Who’s Winkie?”

  “Winfield Hightower. He used to do my hair before I left this godforsaken dirt hole. Even spending all those years in Las Vegas, I never found anyone as good. He’s a true artist.”

  “Imagine that in this backwoods town,” Lexie commented.

  “He’s gay, of course,” Aunt Gladys added. “But that kind of comes with the territory, doesn’t it? He was gay befor
e it was fashionable. So I’d say he is a true gay man. Not a flash-in-the-pan gay man.” She giggled at her own joke.

  “Funny, I’ve never heard of him.” Lexie figured that in a town this small she would have heard someone mention a gay man named Winkie.

  “He may not have the beauty shop any more. Where’s your phone book?”

  Lexie grabbed it from the counter and handed it to her. Thinking about the nail escapade with Lucy, she said, “I don’t think I want anyone messing with my hair.”

  “Nonsense. It could use some conditioning and a good trim.” She squinted at Lexie’s hair and ran her fingers lightly through it. “Even a bit of color. I can see some gray, you know. This is not a good way to catch a man, Leslie.”

  Releasing a breath of frustration, Lexie said, “Why does everyone insist I look for a man?”

  Aunt Gladys rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Francis. Don’t you ever want to have sex again?”

  Lexie’s face burned with embarrassment. Aunt Gladys might be an eccentric nutcase, but she did have a point.

  When Aunt Gladys called Winkie, she found out he was still in town. The instant she requested an appointment, he’d come right over, anxious to wield his scissors on a favorite customer and talk about old times.

  Lexie and Aunt Gladys sat dutifully in the kitchen on high stools as Winfield Hightower, hairdresser supreme, put the finishing touches on their hair. He reached over to lightly fluff Lexie’s washed, trimmed, and freshly ginger-colored hair with pudgy, be-ringed fingers. Then he held up a hand mirror for Lexie to look at her reflection.

  She winced. There were still tiny crows-toes at the corners of her eyes. Nothing Winkie could do about that.

  “Simply fabulous!” Winkie exclaimed as he stood back in his black and tangerine smock. He held aloft a comb with one hand, stroking his chin as he studied his most recent creations.

  “Thank you,” Lexie said. “My hair does look nice.”

  “Nice indeed, Winkie.” Holding an identical hand mirror, Aunt Gladys touched her own hair which he’d pouffed into a cap of shimmery white curls. “I’m so glad you’re still in town. You’re the best. How much do I owe you?”

  He beamed, cheeks rosy beneath his cropped, salt and pepper hair. “Nothing, love. It’s just fabulous to have your radiant self back in town. Didn’t you simply love Vegas?”

  Aunt Gladys giggled. “Oh, yes. I danced there for years and met seven husbands there. Yessiree, Las Vegas will always be in my blood.”

  “Well, you simply must come to me to have your hair done from now on, girlfriend.” He brushed off his smock with a flourish.

  “But you’re retired.”

  “Officially. But I still do hair for special clients.”

  When someone knocked, Winkie’s dog, a tiny Yorkshire terrier named Muffin, began woof-woofing. He flew off his purple silk pillow in a corner of the kitchen and dashed madly around in circles.

  Eva entered the room carrying a boom box and looked around. “Mom, I didn’t know you’d gotten a dog. And what’d you do to your hair?”

  “The dog belongs to Mr. Hightower.” Lexie cleared her throat. “Winkie, this is my daughter Eva.”

  Eva greeted him, still looking slightly surprised. He gave a little bow. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

  “Mr. Hightower is a friend of mine from when I used to live here. Look!” Aunt Gladys pointed to her head. “He just did our hair. Isn’t it grand?”

  “Awesome,” Eva said.

  Blushing from compliments, Winkie swept up the hair on the floor.

  Aunt Gladys stood, took off her cape and set it aside. She gave Eva a hug. “My goodness, how you’ve grown up, Agnes.”

  Eva sent Lexie a frustrated look. “Eva, Aunt Gladys. It’s Eva. Nice to see you again.”

  Lexie took another look at her hair in the hand mirror. Not bad for an old broad. She slid off the stool and removed her cape. “Aunt Gladys and I need to clean up a bit and we’ll be ready for dinner. We’re going to MacGreggor’s, aren’t we?”

  “Nope.” Smiling, Eva hugged the boom box closer and punched a button.

  Loud music blared and a tall man in a Zorro costume, complete with black mask and cape, slid into the kitchen. Chest muscles rippling, he gyrated around the room, slashing a fake fencing sword in the air.

  Muffin barked madly and Winkie picked the dog up, shooshing it as he scooted to the back of the kitchen.

  “Eva!” Lexie watched in shock as the male dancer leapt around her. “What is this?”

  “Your birthday present, Mom!”

  Aunt Gladys’ brows furrowed and she shook an arthritic finger at Zorro. “Are you the boy-man who lives on the roof?”

  “No way,” Zorro shouted, then laughed richly.

  “Good, then we can really have some fun.” Aunt Gladys clapped in time to the music. “Whee,” she shouted. “This reminds me of the all male review at the MGM!”

  Lucy entered the room and her mouth dropped. She hugged her handbag to her chest. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

  Eva set the boom box down and smiled. “This is just what Mom needed for her birthday, Aunt Lucy!”

  “Birthday present, indeed. This is a spectacle!” Lucy returned, her face red as a tomato.

  Just what I needed?

  The more Lexie watched Zorro in his tight black costume, the hotter her face became. How embarrassing. Even her own daughter must realize she’d gone without sex for so long she could qualify for born-again virgin status. This was awful.

  Wait a minute, Lexie thought, hopes brightening. No doubt this is where the extra money went she’d given Eva. Better this than a nose ring or a tongue stud. All was not wrong with the world.

  Eva took Lexie’s elbow, guided her into the eating area of the Saucy Lucy Café, and sat her in a chair. Zorro danced seductively in her direction. His hips gyrated in front of her face and spicy-cologned sweat flew from his hard, lean body. As he swept his cape around and slashed the air with his sword, Lexie tried to catch her breath.

  “Oh, my … oh, my!” Lucy had taken her fan out of her purse and was once again waving it madly in front of her face.

  Eva grinned from ear to ear and Aunt Gladys was ecstatic, clapping and whooping like a wild person, encouraging the young man to, “Take it all off!”

  Winkie eyed the male dancer intently, fingering the gold hoop in his ear as he clutched his little dog to his chest.

  At last Zorro peeled away his cape, hat, and his clothes, piece by piece.

  Lucy caught Lexie’s attention. “Do something,” she said. “This is simply outrageous!”

  Lexie shrugged. What was she supposed to do? It was Eva’s birthday surprise—how could she ruin it? And it really was harmless enough, though she was sure that by now Lucy’s support hose must have melted into her sturdy brown loafers. What a story she’d have to tell patootiehead Otis!

  Lucy glanced uncomfortably at her watch several times, trying pathetically to ignore Zorro when he brushed up against her. Her face turned incredibly red and she whipped her fan at him. “Shoo,” she shouted. “Go away!”

  Grinning devilishly, he moved on to Eva for a little playful seduction, while Lucy resumed fanning herself.

  With a final flourish, he tore off his belled trousers, tossing them aside. When he swept past Aunt Gladys, she produced a bill and stuffed it in his g-string. Lucy put a hand to her forehead and plastered herself against a wall like an insect caught in spider web.

  Zorro’s oiled six-pack rippled as he danced his way over and straddled Lexie’s lap, shaking his package in her face. Of course he stared at her cleavage while all of it was going on. Oh, well, Lexie thought. You only live once and she was, after all, the birthday broad. She pulled a bill from her jeans pocket and stuffed it in his g-string.

  But he didn’t go away. He continued with his dance for what seemed like hours, though it probably lasted only minutes. At last he leaned over, handed Lexie a card and whispered in her ear, his warm, moist breath car
essing her cheek. “Call me later, baby. I love to do it with older women …”

  Lexie’s jaw dropped and her face prickled with wildfire. Did he really think she would call him? Not on her life. Good Lord, he could be her son!

  Zorro jumped away, did a few more twists and gyrations and when the music stopped, he bowed deeply for his audience. While everyone clapped, with the exception of Lucy, he got dressed and waved to everyone. Winking at Lexie, he disappeared through the front door.

  Eva turned down the music. “I’ll order pizza for dinner if that’s OK with everyone.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Lexie said.

  “Splendid,” Aunt Gladys squealed. “I haven’t had pizza since Brucie put me in Dr. Demented’s castle of torture. They’re all crazy there, you know.”

  Lucy reached into her purse, fished out a small wrapped package and handed it to Lexie. Then she smoothed down her dress and patted her bun. “I think I need to go home,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve had a little too much excitement for one night. I do believe my blood pressure’s up.”

  Screeching tires, a loud thump, and a hoarse scream drew everyone’s attention.

  Muffin started barking, jumped out of Winkie’s arms and ran around in circles. Everyone rushed out of the house and onto the porch.

  Beneath the dim streetlights, Zorro lay on his back spread-eagled on the asphalt, his cape spread out behind him. Nearby, black tire tracks slashed across the road.

  Winkie, who had managed to collect Muffin, clutched the growling mutt to his chest and said, “Oh, my God. The boy’s been hurt.”

  CHAPTER 9

  HE’S BEEN RUN OVER,” LEXIE CRIED AND RAN over to him with Eva on her heels. The two of them knelt beside Zorro.

  The fine hairs on Lexie’s neck stood on end as she looked at the blood pooling beside his head. She swallowed a wave of hiccoughs. Who could have done such an awful thing? Fighting squeamishness, she gently lifted his wrist and checked for a pulse. It was there, but very faint.

  She leaned closer to him, held the back of her hand near his mouth and felt faint puffs of air. Thank God he was breathing, although it was very shallow. “He’s alive,” she told Eva. “But he needs help. Fast. Go inside and call 911, then Uncle Otis.”