by Libby Klein
Mrs. Davis hissed, “There is evidence in here that has never been released to the public.”
Mother Gibson’s hands were shaking the script and the pages were gently rattling. “And, child, wait till you hear this. The cops found a French opium cigarette at the crime scene. Remember what Fiona told us?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Aunt Ginny said. “We were looking for one of those cigarettes or evidence of some kind.”
I put my finger to my lips. “Okay, we don’t have time for you to tell me all this right now. I have to get you out of here.”
The biddies’ eyes all widened in horror, and a terror so sharp it could slice through steel shot through me. Aunt Ginny put her arm up and yelled, “No!”
I was hit on the head so hard, it dropped me to my knees. At first all I could see was white-hot light, then stars. Blanche was standing over me holding a life-size wooden duck. “Get up! Now!”
I staggered to my feet, trying to calculate how long I’d been in the house. Sawyer wouldn’t be calling the police for at least ten minutes.
Blanche twisted the duck’s neck and the back opened. She pulled a gun out of the cavity and pointed it at me. “Go.” She prodded us into the sitting room and motioned to the couch. “Sit down.” She went over to a desk and pulled out a roll of thick string like you would use to truss a turkey. She tossed it onto the coffee table. “Tie each other up.”
None of us moved and she placed the gun against Aunt Ginny’s forehead. “I could kill her now. I have enough money to redecorate this room anytime I want.”
I picked up the string and started tying the biddies’ hands behind their backs.
“Knots. Not Bows.”
Then she pushed me onto the couch next to Mother Gibson and tied my hands behind me.
Blanche sat with the gun resting on her knee. “I knew that godforsaken script was going to be a problem the moment he pitched it.”
I leaned forward slightly to try to undo my string. “Blanche, what is this about?”
“That stupid play. At first, I only took it to shut him up, but then he kept talking about a bank robbery. Imagine my surprise to read he’d worked the Sea Isle Savings and Loan job in ’62. I knew then I was going to have to take care of him.”
Mother Gibson wiggled in her seat ever so slightly. “We read the script this afternoon. The official police report said the robbery was pulled off by two men in ski masks, but a bank cashier insisted one of them was a woman. She said she recognized the robber’s perfume, but no one took her seriously. You were the other robber, weren’t you?”
Blanche grinned. “You bet I was, honey. It was my greatest role, and no one will ever know about it. Vernon planned the whole thing. My first husband was an idiot who liked to hit me for fun, but Vern . . . He had brains. He took a job building the Springfield Inn across the street from the bank. That way he was able to memorize the security patterns and the manager’s routine. It was his idea for me to dress as a man and pull the job with him. A real-life Bonnie and Clyde. How do you think I’ve evaded capture all these years? I had to quit Broadway when Royce got me pregnant, but I put my tricks about stage makeup to good use. The cops were never on my tail because they were looking for two men.”
“I thought you couldn’t have a baby.” Just five more minutes.
“I said I didn’t have a baby. I have my first husband throwing me down the stairs to thank for that.”
“You gave yourself away with that cigarette,” Mrs. Davis said. “The police report said that no tobacco agency sold those on account of them being illegal in the US.”
Blanche flushed with irritation. “I made one mistake. I’d hidden in plain sight from that fool for sixty years and then Blabbermouth Busybody goes on about those French opium cigarettes Gunter ordered for me at the Five and Ten. When Duke approached me at practice that day, I saw the way he looked at me. I knew he was putting it together. I waited until he went to lunch and sawed through the railing of the catwalk, so it would fit in with all the other sabotage. Then I waited.”
I wasn’t getting anywhere with my string. It’s a lot harder than they make it look on TV. Then I felt Mother Gibson’s hand working at the knot.
Mrs. Davis asked Blanche, “Did you have to kill him? It’s not like he could arrest you. The man had been retired for years.”
“He cornered me backstage and asked me where the money was. The fool tried to make a citizen’s arrest. He said he was going to report it to his old precinct and they’d get a search warrant. Do you know how easy it is to get a search warrant?”
“Yes.” I shook my head. “Yes, I do.”
“So I let him chase me up the catwalk, and when he caught me at the right spot, I pushed him over.” Blanche threw out her bad arm. “Then I ripped that suicide note out of his script and shoved it in his coat.”
Mrs. Dodson gasped. “What about your broken collarbone?”
“It’s a sprain. Who says I’m not a great actress?”
Aunt Ginny muttered, “Just about everyone.”
I glared at her and we had an argument with our eyes.
Blanche toyed with the gun again. “Now what to do with you? I can kill you in the basement and store a couple of you in the freezers, but I don’t have room for all of you.” She looked at me and Mother Gibson. “Especially you two big ones.”
When I get out of this string I’m going to knock you out. “Why kill us now? Duke is dead. The cops have ruled it a suicide. The script is circumstantial. There are no eyewitnesses. And the case wasn’t reopened. You obviously have the money to hire a lawyer.”
Mrs. Davis added, “That’s true. The script says it was never found and the detectives had to give up the search when the trail ran cold. You got away with it. Why don’t you let us go? You got everything you wanted.”
Mother Gibson had worked the knot free and my hands could move. She held my wrists in place and quietly said, “Not yet.”
Blanche’s mouth twisted into a hard line. “You better believe not yet. I didn’t walk away with everything that was important to me. One of the security guards tried to be a hero and shot Vern in the stomach. We had to kill them. That’s when I dropped that stupid cigarette. I had to get Vern across the street and jam a rod of rebar from the Springfield construction into the bullet hole, so the doctors wouldn’t report it as a gunshot wound. He bled out in the car on the way to the hospital and I had to drive him home and drag him into the driver’s seat.”
Mother Gibson threw her head back and shouted, “Roosters like to crow and do the hokey-pokey!”
Blanche was totally stunned by her outburst, but Aunt Ginny crowed like a rooster at the top of her lungs. Blanche jerked the gun to point it at Aunt Ginny, but Mrs. Davis kicked her leg out to put her left foot in and knocked Blanche’s arm up to the ceiling. The gun went off and a light dusting of drywall fell from the impact. Mother Gibson smacked my hands and yelled, “Now!”
I grabbed the fireplace poker and whacked Blanche over the head. Blanche went down like a failed Jenga tower.
I kicked the gun aside, then grabbed the string and tied her hands and ankles together.
Mrs. Dodson complained to Mother Gibson, “Why didn’t I get to do anything?”
“Because I couldn’t think of anything productive to say for fox-trot.”
“What about foxes trot? Or foxes like to trot? I could have worked with that.”
“What would you have done with foxes trot?”
“I don’t know. Get up and dance to cause a diversion?”
I grabbed my cell to call the police in case something had happened to Sawyer while Mother Gibson untied the other biddies. There was no need. Amber and Officer Birkwell threw the door open and burst in, guns brandished, right in the middle of Mrs. Dodson dancing a jig around the body on the floor.
Amber looked from me to Aunt Ginny. “Oh no.”
Aunt Ginny cackled and jabbed her thumb in my direction. “You’re going to have to start paying us a con
sulting fee.”
Chapter Fifty
“There’s no backing out now.” Aunt Ginny and the biddies were huddled in the craft room of the Senior Center, where they’d just gotten into costume. Tonight was Mamma Mia! the finale and they were up to something devious. “It’s all or nothing,” Aunt Ginny said.
They nodded and put their hands together in the center of their circle.
Mother Gibson said, “For Duke.”
And they all agreed. “For Duke!”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what this is about?” I asked.
The four of them gave me the most angelic looks I had ever seen. My spine trembled with premonitions of impending doom.
We had a packed house again. After last night’s performance, every senior on the island showed up in hopes of new chaos. Neil had to turn people away at the door for fear that the fire marshal would shut us down.
As for the play, things went pretty much as expected. As long as you expected Royce to slip in and out of Shakespeare and Mr. Sheinberg to perform another death scene. “Give the people what they want. Just prancing around singing won’t put the butts in the seats.”
Tonight was the first night the seniors had performed the show’s second act, last night’s having been preempted by the Jerry Springer tribute to “Who’s your mommy?” Recent revelations cast an interesting spin on the play’s themes: lost love, unplanned pregnancy, second chances, and discovering your parentage. It was unfortunate that Royce forgot his line in the wedding scene and chose to fill it in with Othello’s “I am one who loved not wisely but too well.” That brought more than a few snickers, some of them from the audience.
It was an emotional performance, made even more touching by the cast’s dedication of the show to their friend Duke. It would have been a tearful ending had there not been one overshadowing incident that will forever live in infamy.
I had turned the houselights up, so the audience could dance along with the third encore number. When the cast sang the final line, “Finally facing my Waterloo,” Mrs. Dodson, Mrs. Davis, and Aunt Ginny, who I knew was the ringleader, bent over and mooned the audience. The letters THEE ND were written in magic marker across their butts.
Neil and Royce, like a set of matched bookends, were first shocked, then laughed and shook their heads. If they didn’t know by now there was no controlling the biddies, they were going to learn it soon.
The cast was practically floating when the final curtain fell. Loved ones made a rush for the stage to fawn over the cast. Gia and Sawyer were on Aunt Ginny and me before I had my headset off. “Bella, you were wonderful. And Aunt Ginny, the ending was my favorite.”
Aunt Ginny tittered. “It was my idea.”
“I figured it was.” Gia handed us both bouquets of daisies. “These are for you. I was looking for roses, but all the florists were sold out.”
Aunt Ginny and I looked at Sawyer, who had the decency to blush.
* * *
The senior ladies had planned a cast party in the dining room right after the show. I was tickled to see my linzer hearts and champagne cupcakes on the “homemade dessert” table. There’s that special order I had to fill. I relaxed and listened to snippets of conversation around the punch bowl.
Duke’s daughter was holding a memorial service on Monday because Duke hadn’t wanted a funeral. Everyone in the room was planning to attend.
Some of the seniors who had not been in the play were asking Bebe to start up a dance class for them. She couldn’t wait to get started.
Mrs. Spisak asked her, “Where do you get those big, purple glitter boots?”
“Drag Queens R Us.”
“Do you think they come in an eight?”
“Well, honey, we can find out.”
Royce was still trying to make amends with his sister and nephew.
“Fee, your husband left you all that money. I figured you didn’t need mine. Why saddle you with all those taxes?”
“My mother doesn’t have any money. She’s a shopaholic. I’ve had to take her credit cards away from her three times. I only moved in to keep her from losing the house.”
“That’s not true, Iggy. I have your father’s pension.”
“Mother, his pension is five hundred dollars a month and you’d blow it all at Harry and David if I don’t throw the catalog away before you see it.”
“Fee, I will make sure that you and Iggy and Neil are taken care of.”
“Before you give my mother a check, I’d prefer if you make it straight out to the mortgage company, so she can’t blow it on something ridiculous like unicorn china.”
“I don’t know what I would do without Iggy. He has a master’s degree in finance, you know.”
Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, Neil was getting to know Mrs. Dodson and she was holding his hand. Aww, that’s so sweet. It almost brought tears to my eyes.
Gia leaned in to me. “So that’s Neil? He looks fantastic for sixty-one. He must have some Italian in him.”
I laughed. “Is everyone in your family as vain as you?”
Gia gave me a look of mock horror and touched his palm to his chest. His tightly chiseled chest. “You would accuse Giampaolo of being vain? I am hurt.”
“Mm-hmm. Would a bacon-wrapped date make it better?”
“It just might.”
After a while, Aunt Ginny and I ended up alone together. I handed her a glass of punch, made a toast to Mamma Mia! and we clicked plastic cups. “You know, for most of my life it seemed like everyone else was happy and having fun. Their lives were carefree and exciting, while mine was full of anxiety and loneliness. There have been a lot of times when I felt like I was missing out on something. TV shows have the gang sitting in a café laughing over coffee. Love happens at first sight in the movies and they live happily ever after. Every song where the guy promises the girl he can’t live without her.”
“What a bunch of garbage. Real life isn’t scripted and set to music. If it were, I’d always say the right thing.”
I giggled. “You’ve taught me that we have to decide to be happy. These last six months with you have been some of the best times of my life. I’m sure that you and the biddies are going to kill me, but I never knew life could be this much fun. Minus the dead bodies.”
“There has been a lot of murder. We might want to find that fortune-teller who cursed you and apologize.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
We watched Smitty and Georgina laughing and dancing their hearts out to “Fernando.”
“Gia hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”
Gia was talking to Sawyer across the room. Our eyes met and he winked at me.
My whole body warmed.
“It’s a shame Tim had to work today.”
“I’m seeing him tomorrow. Speaking of handsome men. Here comes Royce.”
“There’s my girl.” Royce took Aunt Ginny’s hands and pulled her into an embrace. The smooch he wrapped her in made me blush and I wondered if I ought to leave them alone.
“Ginny, I have something I have to tell you.”
Whatever it was, I could tell he was dreading it. Aunt Ginny felt it too because her voice cracked. “Okay. What is it, Royce?”
“I haven’t been completely truthful with you about why I came home. No, Poppy—you stay. You’re important to Ginny and that makes you important to me. I want you to hear this. I’m in the early stages of dementia. I forget things and get confused. Sometimes I’m fine. Then, other times, I find myself wandering around outside and I don’t know where I am or where I was going. I might only have a few clear-thinking years left, so Fiona convinced me to come home so she could watch me and keep me safe.”
Aunt Ginny reached out and grabbed his hand. “Oh my, Royce. I’m so sorry. Of course, we suspected . . . Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m starting a promising new treatment next week. The doctors are . . . optimistic. Ginny, I’ve made a lot of bad decisions
in my life, but you were never one of them. Being with you these past few weeks, I’ve been happier than angels’ wings.”
Aunt Ginny was a little breathless. “Why, Royce, I feel the same way about you.”
Royce dropped down to one knee. The room went still and every eye was on Aunt Ginny and what was to come. Royce took Aunt Ginny’s hand in his. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.”
I thought it was terribly romantic. One look at Aunt Ginny said that she was in full-blown panic. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. Her eyes were bouncing around the room like a pinball machine looking for the nearest exit. All she could get out was, “Uhhh.”
I had to do something. Looking up, there on the wall, I saw our salvation. I lifted the plastic cover and pulled the fire alarm.
Chapter Fifty-One
Figaro was doing figure eights around my ankles, oblivious to the red and blue lights that bounced off the mirror in the foyer. The lights went out and I waited for the crackle of the police radio and the inevitable knock on the front door. “Hello, Amber. What can I do for you?”
“You do know pulling a fire alarm when there is no fire is a felony.”
“Is it?” I picked up Figaro and snuggled him. “That’s a good li’l tidbit to keep in mind, just in case.”
Aunt Ginny leisurely strolled down the hall in a bathrobe and bunny slippers. She had her hair thrown up in a couple of cockeyed curlers. “Good evening, Officer. I didn’t know we had company, Poppy.”
I gave Amber a doe-eyed look. “Is this a social call, Officer?”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Can I come in?”
I opened the door. “Why don’t we retire to the library? My aunt and I were just about to have our evening cookies and cocoa.” I heard Val snicker from the top of the stairs. She had nuked the hot chocolate and poured it into a teapot so I could rocket into my pajamas before the police arrived.
Amber took a seat on the sofa in front of the fire and I poured her cocoa into a bone china cup. “How was your day?”