Bunco Babes Gone Wild

by Maria Geraci

  Rusty 1 whispered something in Zeke’s ear. Zeke sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid no one can leave here tonight until they make a statement.”

  Ted Ferguson elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. “Sheriff, I have a private plane in Panama City waiting to take me to Knoxville. My pilot just called and said we need to leave now before it gets too foggy. It’s the only way I can make the Alabama-Tennessee football game tomorrow.”

  Spencer jumped off his knees. “You have a plane leaving tonight for Knoxville?”

  “You can come along if you want. I have room for you—for both of you,” he said nodding at Georgia.

  Spencer turned and gave her a beseeching look. “What do you say, babycakes? We can celebrate our engagement by watching the Crimson Tide beat up on Tennessee. You’ve always wanted to meet my college friends.”

  “Sorry,” said Zeke. “But no one can leave until we get an official statement. And I’m not sheriff. I’m the chief of police.”

  “Whatever, Andy,” mocked Spencer. “Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to the Alabama-Tennessee game?” he roared.

  “Not as hard as it is to get tickets for the Florida-FSU game,” Moose chimed in.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Bettina. “Can’t everyone see this theft is some sort of scheme to make our fund-raiser look bad? It’s obvious that the same person who stole the cash at Black Tie Bunco has done it again. And we all know who it is.” She turned and pointed a finger into the crowd. “Ed Hampton is your thief! Ask my husband. Frida Hampton owed the bank twelve thousand dollars and just a couple of days after Black Tie Bunco, Ed walked into the bank and paid it all off. In cash!”

  Everyone began talking and shouting at once.

  Zeke stuck his fingers in his mouth and produced a blood-curdling whistle. “Pipe down!” He frowned at Bruce Bailey. “Bruce, isn’t there some sort of Hippocratic oath or something you bankers take? Or do you discuss all the bank’s business with your wife?”

  “It’s called HIPAA,” supplied Earl.

  “No, it’s not. HIPAA is what protects patients’ rights,” DeeDee told Earl.

  “Then they ought to have the same thing for bankers. I sure as hell hope you’re not running around telling everyone my business, Bruce Bailey.” Earl raised his cane and waved it at the sweating banker.

  It was time to put a stop to all this nonsense. Georgia tried to catch Spencer’s eye. He didn’t seem overly upset that his proposal had been interrupted. As a matter of fact, he looked downright gleeful. He’d looked that way ever since Ted had announced he had a plane waiting to take him to tomorrow’s football game. She hadn’t wanted to do it like this. But there was no choice.

  “Ed couldn’t have taken the money the night of Black Tie Bunco,” Georgia blurted.

  “You know that for a fact, Georgia?” Zeke asked.

  Georgia sought Dave out in the crowd. Unlike Spencer, she couldn’t tell anything from the expression on Dave’s face. “I lied to you, Zeke. I wasn’t in the bathroom when the video started. I was in a storage closet with Dave Hernandez and Ed found us in there.”

  “What were you and Dave doing in the closet?” Zeke asked.

  Georgia steeled herself for the reaction to come. “We were—”

  “Dancing,” Dave answered for her.

  Zeke blinked. “Dancing?”

  “Yeah,” said Dave. “You know, it’s something two people do together.”

  “Except you need music for that,” someone yelled.

  A few people in the crowd laughed.

  Georgia felt her cheeks go warm. She glanced at Spencer to see how he’d taken her confession. He seemed more angry than upset.

  “Is that what they were doing, Ed?” Zeke asked.

  Ed nodded. “Yeah, that’s what they were doing.”

  “Okay,” said Zeke. “That’s good enough for me.”

  “That’s it?” screeched Bettina. “Aren’t you going to ask him about the money?”

  Rusty 2 made a harrumphing sound to get everyone’s attention. “There’s also the tumbler we found in the Dumpster behind the Bistro. Don’t forget that.”

  “I don’t know how the tumbler got there,” said Georgia, “but the money can easily be explained. Spencer loaned it to Ed. Didn’t you, Spencer?”

  “No, I did not,” he proclaimed hotly.

  Georgia stilled. “If you didn’t loan Ed the money, who did?”

  “I earned the money,” said Ed.

  Frida’s face lit up. “Baby, you sold a painting for twelve thousand dollars! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ed looked grim. “I didn’t sell a painting, Frida. I got the money as an advance. I’m going to be working for Pappas-Hernandez Construction.”

  Everyone turned to look at Dave and Steve.

  “As part of my new job, I’m taking over the renovations at Dolphin Isles,” Dave explained quietly. “Ed’s going to do some painting for us out there.”

  “You’re going to be painting houses? At Dolphin Isles?” asked Frida. “When are you going to find time to do your own painting?”

  “Maybe it’s time I gave up on that for a while. I need to bring in some money, Frida.”

  Frida looked like she was about to cry.

  “That settles that,” said Zeke. “Ed has an alibi and no motive. Doesn’t make sense that he’d steal the money.”

  “What about the tumbler?” persisted Rusty 2.

  “Obviously, someone is trying to frame Ed,” said Pilar, narrowing her eyes at Bettina.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Bettina. “If it wasn’t Ed Hampton, then it’s another one of those Babes’ husbands.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Check out Brett Navarone’s alibi. He’s a compulsive gambler. I bet he stole the money.”

  The room went still.

  Tina covered her mouth with her hand. Brett had a horrified expression on his face. And the Babes looked ready to kill.

  “How do you know that, Bettina?” demanded Shea. “The only people who know about Brett’s gambling problem are his contacts through Gamblers Anonymous and the Babes.”

  Bettina started to sputter. “I . . . I must have heard it around town.”

  “Bullshit!” said Pilar. “No one but Tina and Brett and us know that secret.”

  “The only way you could have known about Brett’s gambling problem is if you go to Gamblers Anonymous,” accused Kitty.

  Bettina stomped her foot. “I do not go to Gamblers Anonymous! Or anything else Anonymous!” she added.

  No one in the crowd looked happy with Bettina right now.

  “Are you going to start accusing everyone of stealing the

  money, Bettina?” someone yelled. “I go to AA,” one woman said, “I’m not ashamed of it either. Do you think I took the money?”

  “Of course not,” Bettina, said, wild-eyed. “It’s those Babes! They’re responsible for all this! Didn’t you see their video? How they laughed at all of us?”

  “We saw them laughing at you,” someone said.

  A few of the Babes started to look uncomfortable.

  “And we apologize for that,” Kitty said. “We didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  “Oh, hell,” said Christy Pappas, “Bettina said a lot worse things about you guys at our first Bunco party. It just wasn’t caught on tape.”

  “There’s only one way you could know about Brett’s gambling problem,” Shea said, pointing a finger at Bettina. “You heard it on my nanny cam tapes! We talked about it on the night of Breast-Fest but that part of the tape wasn’t shown at Black Tie Bunco.” She looked around the crowd. “By the way, Breast-Fest is Pilar’s word, not mine.”

  Everyone turned to look at Bettina.

  “Why would I steal your nanny cam tapes?” She glanced around the room, searching out support.

  “You didn’t steal them. Persephone did. To keep everyone from knowing she’s a lush,” Shea said.

  Persephone crossed her arms over her chest. “Prove it,”
she dared.

  “All right,” said Shea. She stomped across the room to the ledge where she’d stashed her bag and pulled out her camera. “This purse has another nanny cam in it. It’s been aimed at Persephone and that table all night. I bet she’s guz zled down enough gin and tonics to float away.”

  “If you got a nanny cam set on that table, then that tape can show us who the thief is,” said Zeke.

  Rusty 2’s eyes popped out in excitement.

  Zeke calmly took the camera from Shea’s hands. “Let me have a look at that.” He fiddled with the dials, then studied the playback. Everyone in the room held their breath, waiting for Zeke to say something.

  A loud crash made Georgia turn her head. It sounded like someone had dropped an armful of dishes. One of the waiters busted through the kitchen door and took off running for the entrance. Georgia recognized him as the same waiter who’d brought Persephone her drink.

  “I got him, Boss!” yelled Rusty 1.

  “No, I got him!” Rusty 2 cried over his shoulder.

  The crowd parted as the two deputies took off after the running waiter. After a short scuffle, Rusty 1 handcuffed him while Rusty 2 read him his Miranda rights. Funny, when had she started being able to tell Rusty 1 and Rusty 2 apart?

  “You stupid cow!” the waiter screamed. “I told you this was a dumb idea.”

  The crowd followed his gaze to see exactly who the stupid cow was. Zeke already had Persephone handcuffed.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, I couldn’t help myself,” Persephone sniffed.

  “You had to get greedy, didn’t you?” Alex sneered. “You couldn’t be happy with the thirteen grand from the other night!”

  “What part of ‘anything you say can and will be used against you’ don’t these people understand?” Pilar asked.

  Bettina threw herself on Persephone. “This is all a mistake,” she cried. “Persephone, tell them you didn’t steal the money!”

  Zeke gently pried Bettina off Persephone. “Sorry, Bettina, but it’s all on Shea’s nanny cam. While Georgia was being proposed to, this one,” he nodded his head toward Persephone, “was handing off the fish bowl to her waiter-boyfriend. They even snuck in a little kiss.”

  Bettina’s jaw dropped. “Persephone, how could you?”

  Persephone rolled her eyes in the air. “Give me a break.”

  “Zeke, can I take a look at my nanny cam?” asked Shea.

  Zeke hesitated. “Just for a minute. I’m going to need it for evidence.”

  Shea fast-forwarded through most of the tape. “I knew it!” she cried triumphantly. “She’s had at least five drinks that I can count. And there’s probably even more!”

  Zeke took the tape back from Shea.

  “Persephone, you can plead temporary insanity,” Bettina said. “The twins could drive anyone crazy! I’ll get you the best lawyer money can buy. Don’t worry, I’ll have you out of jail and back with me in no time.”

  Persephone looked horrified. “Why do you think I stole the money? I hate working for you. I’d rather go to jail than spend one more day as your nanny!”

  Poor Bettina, thought Georgia. She looked like she’d been run over.

  “And another thing,” Persephone yelled to the crowd before Zeke hauled her out the door, “I made those key lime tarts, not her! She made me stay up until four in the morning finishing them. And it’s not some secret family recipe either. She got it off the friggin’ internet!”

  Bettina threw herself in Bruce’s arms. “I need Tofu,” she whimpered.

  “I didn’t know Bettina was one of them vegetarians,” said Earl. “Seems like a strange time to be hungry to me.”

  “Oh my God,” said Kitty. “This is awful.”

  “Yeah, not even Bettina deserves this,” Pilar said.

  Shea frowned but she didn’t say anything.

  Bruce disengaged himself from Bettina. “I think my wife has something to tell you.” He nudged her on with a stern look. “Go on. Tell them what you told me last night.”

  “Do I have to?” she pleaded.

  “You do if you want your credit cards back.”

  Bettina swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said to Shea, “you were right about Persephone stealing your nanny cam tapes. Consuelo found them in her room while she was cleaning. I got to thinking about what you said, about her drinking while on the job, so I played them. She must have gotten rid of the ones that showed her drinking, because all the tapes had on them was . . . was that awful night you all got drunk.” She took a big breath. “You said some really mean things about me on that tape,” she ended on a shaky note.

  The Babes all looked at one another guiltily.

  Shea let out a long-suffering sigh like she knew she’d been beat. “You’re right. We did say some mean things about you. I guess . . . I guess that makes us mean girls?”

  Bettina half smiled. “I guess that’s right.” Her expression became somber again. “Then the night of Black Tie Bunco when I saw Georgia with my dress . . .” She shook her head. “It was the last straw. I wanted to bring you all down a few pegs. So I had Persephone bring over the tape and substituted it for your montage piece on Whispering Bay.” She paused. “Which by the way, you should totally thank me for, because really, Shea, I’ve tried to watch it twice now and it’s put me to sleep both times.”

  Georgia could see Shea struggle to keep her mouth shut.

  “I’m really sorry about the dress,” Georgia said. “But I loved it so much and . . . well, the Babes knew how much it meant to me.”

  “I know you can’t help yourselves,” Bettina said. “You Babes all stick together.”

  “Bettina and I didn’t mean to steal all your subs,” Christy Pappas chimed in with a confession of her own. “We just wanted to start our own group.”

  Laura Barnes, another ex-Babe sub nodded. “I was tired of waiting around for a phone call hoping you’d ask me to play.”

  “We just want to play Bunco,” said Christy.

  “Well, we certainly understand that,” said Pilar.

  One of the waitstaff tapped Bettina on the shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a crisis on our hands,” he said. “Now that Alex has been hauled off we’re short on help. And we’ve run out of ice.”

  Christy looked alarmed.

  “Don’t worry,” Bettina said, throwing back her shoulders. “I’ve got it under control.” She clapped her hands. “Bunnies!” she yelled. “Come with me.”

  A troop of pink-clad women flocked behind their leader and marched toward the kitchen.

  “I guess we should help too,” said Shea. “After all, this is a fund-raiser for the new rec center and we’re still on the Friends of the Rec Center committee.”

  “That Bettina really is a good organizer,” said Kitty.

  “Ay, caramba,” said Pilar, “I hate to admit it, but you’re right.”

  “C’mon, girls,” said Shea, following Bettina and the Bunnies. “We Bunco broads all have to stick together.”

  35

  The Babes followed Shea into the kitchen. Except Frida. She turned to Ed, her hands on her hips. “I want you to give Dave and Steve their money back. Tell them you can’t go to work for them. I don’t care about the Bistro. Not enough to have you give up your dream for it.”

  Georgia’s gaze flew to Ed. There was a stubborn gleam in his eyes she was fast coming to recognize. “You can’t tell me what to do here, Frida. The fact is your sister is right. I need to man up and get a job. At least for a while, until we get back on our feet financially.”

  “But, baby, when will you find time to paint?”

  “I can work it around my schedule,” he said, not looking totally convinced. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve given it my shot. Maybe it’s time I got a job just like everyone else has to do.” He took Frida’s hands in his. “I don’t want you to lose the Bistro. You’ve worked too hard and too long for that to happen.”

  If Frida looked like she was going to cry earlie
r, now it looked like she was on the verge of sobbing.

  Georgia had vowed never to interfere in her sister’s business again, but now wasn’t the time to keep that promise. “If you’ll let me help, I think I have an idea.”

  “We’re not taking your money,” Frida and Ed both said in unison.

  Georgia put her hands in the air. “Okay, okay, I get it. But this idea doesn’t involve me giving you money.”

  They stared at her, unconvinced.

  “Remember that marketing plan I wrote up for you?”

  “The one you never showed me?” Frida said.

  Georgia glanced at Dave, who was watching her with an intensity that almost made her knees buckle. “I never showed it to you because it sucked.” She stole another glance at Spencer, who merely raised his brows at that. “I thought that turning the Bistro into a Starbucks wannabe was the answer to your problem. But you’re right, you can’t compete with Starbucks. So you have to be different than them.”

  “I am different from them,” Frida said proudly.

  “Right. But in this economy you have to be even better. You have to fill a gap that’s missing. And what’s missing is a really good lunch place. A place where you can get a quick sandwich or a burger, a place where you can sit down or phone your order in ahead of time and have it ready it go.”

  “But I can’t do that! My place is barely big enough for what I serve now. And I don’t think Bruce Bailey is going to give me a loan to expand.”

  Georgia couldn’t help but grin. “I have an investor lined up for you. He’ll put up the money in exchange for a percentage of your profits. You can even hire someone to help you. That way you don’t have to count on Ed.” She turned to Ed. “I was thinking, instead of working at Dolphin Isles full time, maybe you can arrange to work off your advance part time? It’ll take longer, but it’ll give you time in the day to do your real painting. That is”—she glanced at Dave—“if your employer is willing.”

  “We could arrange that,” Dave said.

  “Georgia,” began Frida, “this all sounds great. But who would be dumb enough to make that sort of investment in the Bistro? It could take years for them to get their money back. We don’t even know if the new idea will take off.”