Hey, we’re talking fiction, right? I always counter many people and characters speak grammatically incorrect.
* * * * *
Take note of the following:
“This was the most unkindest cut of all.”
(Marc Anthony - Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: Double superlative)
“To boldly go where no man has gone before.”
(An intro to each episode of Star Trek: split infinitive)
“You ain’t heard nothing yet, folks.”
(Al Jolson – Movie: The Jazz Singer: Double negative.)
P.S. Thank you, James Harbeck for those fine examples.
(I could go on and on.)
Hopefully, you understand the essence of my point.
(Adverbs first, tend to show the speaker’s attitude)
...chuckle
* * * * *
Martha surveyed the Worths’ impressive kitchen. “We sure were lucky to stay another month in these deluxe digs with all this stainless steel, granite, and marble.”
I stared out the floor-to-ceiling whole wall of windows showcasing the back gardens while I sliced some baby Bella mushroom then turned back to the others. “So what do we owe Mona’s visit to other than her potential fiancé?”
Hazel put butter and olive oil into the pan. “I certainly didn’t expect her pending engagement.”
Betty grabbed some Italian balsamic vinegar to drizzle over the just-sliced tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and the garden-fresh basil on the platter. “From what you said, it all sounds so cloak and dagger.”
Martha stopped tearing up the Romaine lettuce leaves. “I noticed she wasn’t too excited we’re here. Must have put a crimp in her elaborate plans, whatever they were.”
Hazel turned to Martha. “Why do you say that?”
“Whenever Mona shows up there’s usually trouble.”
“True, but that’s what’s so exciting!” exclaimed Hazel.
I shook my head. “You’ve all read too many mysteries.”
“No,” said Martha. “We’ve been involved in too many.”
I handed over all the newly-sliced mushrooms to Hazel, who then slid them easily into the hot pan. I then sprinkled on some salt and pepper as they began to sizzle.
“I’d like to know what we’re dealing with,” I said.
“Do you think she’ll tell us the truth?” asked Martha.
“I sure hope so,” I replied, then chuckled. “And to think I thought I’d be bored once I finished my last mystery.”
“Bored never seems to come into the equation where we’re concerned, does it?” Martha said.
“Sam, your grin says you love every minute of intrigue that lands in your lap,” laughed Betty.
I tried to suppress another chuckle, but failed.
“And,” added Hazel, “as long as you have us, your top-notch sleuthing team backing you up, you’re golden.”
But as I considered Mona’s unexpected and suspicious arrival, I began to feel itchy. Like people get who ignore all the warnings about its hazards, but still walk right through poison ivy. Why turn back? I was already exposed.
I had stepped into it, but the question was, into what?
Chapter 5
Fact From Fiction
Our eyes traveled back and forth across the beautifully-set, flower-laden, and candlelit table, as Mona glossed over how Teddy and she met: an online dating site. Mona recited in a less-than-wordy explanation how she input her dream-date material. I gave Teddy the once-over. Her description of him had fit perfectly, which I found highly dubious. Mr. too-good-to-be-true Teddy and the ever-shrewd and savvy Mona were an unlikely pair: a beyond-believable match.
“Teddy, what caught your interest in Mona?” I probed.
“I wrote online I was an avid art enthusiast, and to my surprise, Mona replied she was just as passionate about art, and so was her sister, who had an impressive art collection. And here I thought witty Mona was just another pretty face, but after discovering our mutual interest, my world tilted.”
‘My world tilted?’ What idiot’s date guide did he read?
“Aww, Teddy,” said Mona, blushing.
Oh, please...
Martha had to look away for fear of cracking up.
My BS meter was off the scale. He was Mona’s match alright: both experts in the con market. Was that her reason for latching onto him? Okay, I admit his good looks could stop traffic. But other than that, what was this really about?
With Mona, trust me, something was always going on in the background. I was still lost in my musings of the, ‘how-they-got-together angle’ when Teddy turned my way and kept glancing back and forth between Mona and me.
“I’m having a hard time seeing any kind of resemblance between you and your twin sister, Mona.”
“Sam and I are fraternal twins, that’s why,” said Mona.
I swear, I almost spit out my wine. Fraternal...twins?
Mona quickly added, “Hard to believe, huh?”
Martha jerked Mona’s way. “Takes a leap of faith...”
Hazel coughed into her napkin to mask her laugh.
Betty took a gulp of her wine, not daring to speak.
Then I realized I hadn’t let my crew in on the lie Mona had spun about us being related and turned to explain.
“...Uh, you remember me saying how different we were, being sisters and fraternal twins, too, don’t you?” I said, subtly winking, trying not to blow Mona’s mounting lies and still trying to figure out what she had up her sleeve.
Snarky Martha eyed Mona’s full figure. “Must have been a tight fit for your Momma. I feel her pain.”
Mona glared at Martha. “You’re such a jokester.”
“True,” said Martha. “That’s what keeps me going.”
“What? You’re imagination or your sense of humor?”
“Where you’re concerned, both!” she said, grinning.
Teddy checked his image on a silver bowl on the table.
“Overreacting is unhealthy, Mona. It causes wrinkles.”
Martha laughed. “Ah, Teddy offers intriguing advice.”
Smoothing down his hair, he turned back to Martha.
“...Yeah, I’m just full of intrigue.”
Silence. Obviously, his focus was elsewhere: on himself.
“He sure is full of something,” whispered Martha.
“Are you familiar with my mystery series, Teddy?”
“I guess unraveling clues can be interesting.”
“Especially when someone slips up and gets their due.”
Perspiration appeared on Teddy’s upper lip. He broke eye contact and glanced toward Mona then the clock.
Now, Teddy, why so nervous?
Mona and Teddy were two peas in a pod: deceivers. But Mona pretty much fought for the good side. So that left me thinking Teddy was on the opposite side of that spectrum.
What was the big push to stay here?
Then the obvious hit me: the Worths’ vast art collection. They trusted me to protect their property and possessions. Why’d Mona expose it to this con? Had Teddy latched onto Mona because of this art? Were they conning each other?
I’d been watching Teddy’s every move since he came down from their apartment for dinner. He hadn’t glanced at anything else but mirrors and the art. Mona had to notice.
This whole thing felt like a set-up: a bad one.
Martha’s eyes caught mine then caught Teddy’s, asking him, “How about a drink and a game of pool downstairs?”
Teddy jumped at the invitation to leave the table. “Yes!”
He was most likely glad to get away from more scrutiny. Besides, a bunch of women and one man makes men kind of edgy. Just ask Clay. It happened frequently.
Mona jumped up too. “That sounds like a good idea...”
I stopped her, brooking no excuses. “No,” I whispered.
Then I nodded as Martha wearing her stilettos gave me a wink and a thumbs up as she followed Teddy. I turned on some m
usic, hoping it would muffle both upstairs and downstairs.
Martha was taking one for the home team.
Chapter 6
Now What?
After stopping Mona, I murmured, “Not so fast.”
Betty and Hazel discreetly excused themselves, knowing an interrogation was forthcoming and it might get ugly.
I was not about to relive letting Mona off easy this time.
“I demand some answers, right now,” I hissed.
“Would I be here if this wasn’t important? Have I ever left you in a lurch before?”
I stood there staring then broke out laughing.
“Okay, let me restate that somewhat. It always ends up working out in the end, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I have to admit it does. But this time, I’d rather it be sooner than later before something disastrous happens.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“When you’re involved in something, it’s a guarantee.”
“Okay, so I may have dropped the ball a time or two...”
I kept staring at her, saying nothing.
“...And possibly three or four times.”
“Now we’re progressing. And this time around?”
Mona sighed. “I was sent a detailed email explaining all about your art fraud episode in New Hope.”
“Who sent it?”
“Why, Clay, of course!”
“Good. More progress. So far I’m following. And...?”
“Then I received a follow-up email with instructions to befriend Teddy online, specifics outlined: art interests, etc.”
“Clay said to latch onto him and bring him here?”
Mona frowned. “I thought Clay cleared all this with you ahead of time and assumed it was another investigation you guys needed me in on. After your confusion at greeting me at the front door wondering why I was here, I figured you were just busting my chops. But you weren’t, were you?”
“No!” I sat down at the kitchen table. I had to think. I knew Clay has dropped the ball now and then, but at the risk of his friends’ property? “Are you sure that second email was from Clay?”
Mona sat down too. “Look, I was too busy to verify this job with you personally. Plus, it came shortly after the first email. Clay’s name was at the bottom, so I just assumed... After seeing your reaction, I’m thinking it wasn’t legit.”
“Do you have your laptop for us to recheck that email?”
Mona was back in minutes, booted up her laptop and scrolled to the email in question. We both leaned in to scrutinize the sender. It said Clay, but the return email was slightly different from his by one single letter. Being rushed, I could understand why she overlooked that minor variance. Mona was instructed to romance and set up Teddy to come here for a sting, but it never mentioned what the sting was. She was to get double her usual fee.
“Even I don’t get that. No wonder you jumped.”
Mona’s lips thinned in anger. “Now I feel like an idiot.”
“Too late. The question is, who set us up? And why?”
Chapter 7
Flying Blind
My definition of flying blind: Doing something tricky without the basic faculties for doing it, which could lead to disaster. It was something I never felt comfortable with, hated and should be accustomed to by now, but wasn’t. I didn’t know which way to turn. Here I was sitting on something, waiting for it to happen, but wasn’t privy as to what it was, which, obviously, now included Mona.
Mona was sucked into this and should have known better. She was a professional: previously associated with the FBI and other nefarious (that word alone should speak volumes) organizations, of which she would never reveal to me. I can only imagine who they were. She was tight-lipped to a fault, just like Clay when he was working on the job.
Trust me, both of them are a constant challenge.
I was typing at my laptop while sipping a fresh cup of coffee the next morning, working in Alicia’s posh home office. Since Alicia sold her gallery in New Hope, she had picked up her loft office there and settled it into her own home. Since that space was pretty much the same size, she set it up exactly the same way.
I’d gotten used to working on her antique desk. It was solid cherry and oval shaped all the way around from top to bottom with intricate wood veneers, marble strips, and gold ornamentation. The top of the desk was inlayed with dark green leather, ringed with an edge of gold stenciling.
Her camel-backed striped fabric sofa was a coral and pale green. A black-lacquer painted wooden chair with cane backing and matching seat cushion complimented it. A leather suitcase coffee table tied the grouping together.
Next to the desk was the now familiar deeper green and navy fabric-covered wing chair, the same shade as the leather on the desk. Right behind me she placed her old four-shelf cherry weathered bookcase filled with the same antique books she loved to collect. As I had stated once before while working in her loft at her gallery, if I had a wish-list dream space to work in, this was it.
I emailed Clay earlier, left messages on his cell: nothing, then tried investigating this Teddy of Mona’s. My online search was a no-go: it dead-ended on effort, likely an alias.
I began chuckling, recalling the sight of Teddy walking into the kitchen two hours later after he had left with Martha the previous evening. He was beyond drunk. I knew right then and there, Martha had grabbed liquor from the butler’s pantry on their way down to the poolroom on the lower level. Scotch? Brandy?
All he said was, “Talk about an ace pool player. She’s a real pro, that Martha, and in more ways than one!” Then he fell over like a dead tree onto the stone floor in front of us.
Mona and I just stared at each other then looked down at all that muscle, at least two hundred pound’s worth, which was now heavy, dead weight. Martha was nowhere in sight, probably tucked snugly in her bed and wearing a smile.
“I’ll get a pillow from the couch,” said Mona.
“I’ll get a throw to cover him,” I replied.
We left Teddy there, knowing he’d figure it out when he finally came to. I left a nightlight on and Mona pinned a large note to his shirt to remind him where he was with instructions on how to get back to their apartment. Then we both went up to our own beds to think over what to do next.
Chapter 8
That Other Morning After Pill: Aspirin
I heard music coming from the kitchen at the other end of the house and grabbed the coffee I was drinking to go find who was up and about. I was dying to talk to Martha to see if she had found out anything worthwhile about Teddy.
Because before I entered Alicia’s office that morning, I made a quick detour down to the lower level to check out the poolroom for clues as to what went on the night before.
What I found left me with a wide range of interpretation on Martha’s imagination. I righted one stool, replaced the pillow back on it, then surveyed for more potential damage: not to the poolroom itself, but to what happened to her unsuspecting, prime target, Teddy.
Two empty bottles I had previously mentioned were scattered across the table, pool cues and balls were strewn everywhere, and chalk smudged the pool table’s felt top.
Were they drawing chalk pictures?
Just before leaving, something caught my eye. A stiletto was dangling from the elegant Tiffany light over the pool table. I knew Martha was creative, but I had a feeling she went above and beyond the call of duty on this one. I gave up on any further speculation and left, laughing out loud, heading upstairs to Alicia’s office to try to compose a few possible notes about this. The actual details I’d get later.
Still laughing over the potential symbolism of what I had seen, I entered the kitchen, but then stopped in surprise. Martha was alert, whistling and cooking up an omelet smothered in fresh veggies. My mouth watered not only from the wonderful aroma, but the juicy story that I knew awaited me. I guess her aspirin had already kicked in.
I sidled up close and handed her the salt an
d pepper.
“Well, am I going to hear what happened or what?”
“Depends,” she said, trying to hide a smirk.
“On what?” I asked innocently then laughed myself.
“Whether you’re prepared to keep an open mind...”
“An open mind, huh? I’m dying here.”
“What I tell you doesn’t go beyond this room,” she said.
“You mean don’t tell the others?”
“Exactly.”
What was up? “Meaning?”
“I have a well-crafted reputation to protect, that’s why.”
“What does this have to do with your reputation?”
Martha stared at me, remaining silent.
I finally nodded in agreement. “Okay, agreed. Spill.”
She lowered the heat on the omelet and turned to me.
I crossed my arms and waited.
“Coffee?” she asked casually.
I knew she was looking for time to gather her thoughts.
“Sure.”
“The usual: light cream and sugar?”
I also knew that after all these years, she knew exactly how I drank my coffee, but I played along anyway. “Sure.”
“As usual, exactly what occurred downstairs and what didn’t occur was intentionally left for pure conjecture,” she said offhandedly, while not exactly meeting my eye.
Chapter 9
Conjecture And More
I stood there for a moment then broke up laughing.
Martha remained deadpan, but then threw up her arms.
“What?” I asked, trying my best to remain open-minded.
“I have a reputation to preserve: a priceless asset.”
“You’re leaving the incident wide open to assumptions.”
The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) Page 2