Pamela DuMond - Annie Graceland 03 - Cupcakes, Pies, and Hot Guys

by Pamela DuMond

Wild Women

  By the time Annie and Frank had descended the hills and reached the cemetery’s gate, the dirt bike was long gone and sounded like a mosquito in the distance.

  Annie dropped her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “Go after the bike!”

  “What bike?” Frank asked. “It’s probably miles from here.”

  “You’re dead. Can’t you float or levitate or zip through time?”

  “I’m newly dead. I don’t know anything about being deceased let alone possessing super powers. You’ve seen too many movies.” He plodded off down the narrow road that led away from the cemetery.

  “Fine!” Annie said. “I’m just trying to help. I thought the goal was to find your killer so you could pass to the Afterlife.”

  “Fine! I’m done for tonight. I didn’t ask to be a ghost. I don’t want to be dead. I do, however, want to pass to the Afterlife.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you, anymore. I think you secretively want to delay passing because you’ve fallen back in love with Lila.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Really?”

  “Okay, it’s totally true,” Frank said. “Dang! She’s still making me pay for never calling her back. But that was years ago.”

  “It’s called karma. You get to pay it in this life, other lives and apparently in-between lives, until you learn whatever your lesson is.”

  Annie realized she’d have to walk all the way back to the Lodge. Frick. Then she realized her mom’s house was much closer. “Good night, Frank.”

  “Good night to you, too.” Frank levitated a few inches. Started floating skyward and hovered above her head. “This is because of your suggestion, right? I’m a sucker for a pretty face who tells me what to do. What the hell am I going to do up here?”

  “I don’t know. But you’re big and strong and you can deal with it,” Annie said. “Check in with me tomorrow.”

  There was a loud zing and sparks flew off a power line overhead. “That you, Frank?”

  “No. It’s karma,” he said.

  An hour later, Annie finagled the key in the front door of her mom’s house. She snuck up the stairs, slipped into her former bedroom, quietly shut the door and set the big pink alarm clock. She changed into her Oconomowoc Rocks pjs, climbed into her twin bed and hugged Walla the koala to her heart. But she couldn’t sleep. She thought of her dad and Frank. Two good men who were cut down in the prime of their lives.

  Was she even remotely close to solving Frank’s murder? The only person with an obvious motive was Suzy DeLovely. But she had a solid alibi. Bitterhausen was a pain, but no longer a suspect. Perhaps Frank’s death was completely random, not even related to the contest. But Jamie didn’t believe that either. And Jamie’s instincts were pretty reliable. And Annie remembered…

  Teenage Annie wore jeans and reclined on a couple of large pillows on the floor in the Ryan residence den. She flipped through a Teen Cosmo while half-heartedly playing Battleship with ten-year-old Jamie Ryan. He made a couple of fancy moves and proclaimed, “Hah! I sunk your Battleship. I win. Again.”

  “You’re a military genius, dude,” Annie said.

  Jamie jumped up and hopped around the room. “Let’s have cupcakes. You brought some, right?”

  “Let’s not. You’re wired. How much sugar did you eat today?”

  “I didn’t eat any sugar.”

  “What did you eat today?”

  “Fruity Loops for breakfast. Pizza for lunch. Mickey D’s for dinner. Some chocolate from my stash before you got here. Although Mom doesn’t know about the stash so don’t tell her. She’s trying to clean up my diet. Hah!”

  “Got it.” Annie looked at her watch—nine p.m. One more hour until his parents returned. Then she’d meet up with Scott Puddleman for their secret date. Her mom thought her baby-sitting gig went ’till eleven thirty. So she’d have almost two whole hours with dreamboat Scott. “So exciting!” she murmured out loud.

  “More Battleship?”

  “No. Outside, soldier. You need to burn some energy.”

  Jamie climbed the jungle gym in his backyard. He swung from the overhead bars like a monkey. Slid down the slide as slick as an Olympic skier. “Your turn,” he said.

  “Thanks, but no,” Annie said, a hand on her hip as she looked at her watch.

  “You’re always saying no.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You just said no again.”

  “Fine, smarty-pants. Give me something to say yes to.”

  “Okay.” Jamie thought. “Someday when I’m in high school, I’m going to ask you to be my date for the senior glomb. What are you going to say?”

  Annie covered a smile. “When you’re a senior in high school, I’m going to be twenty-four years old. You’ll think I’m an old lady. You’d never in a thousand years invite an old lady to your senior prom.”

  “I didn’t say senior prom.” Jamie frowned. “I’m asking you to be my date at senior glomb.”

  Annie shook her head. “What’s the difference?”

  “Prom sounds boring,” Jamie said. “Glomb, however, is like prom, but we’re all zombies. Hah! So it doesn’t matter how old you are.”

  “What if I have a boyfriend?”

  “You mean like gross, smells like farts, Scott Puddleman? Blech.” Jamie stuck his finger down his throat and rolled his eyes back into his head.

  “I think he’s cute.”

  “From what I hear, he dates all the babysitters in town.”

  “No way,” Annie said.

  “Yeah way. You think us kids don’t talk about stuff like this? We do.”

  Annie harrumphed. What did silly little Jamie Ryan know about a man’s character?

  Years later, lying awake in her twin bed in her mom’s house, she realized that Jamie Ryan quite possibly knew more than she did at the time. She drifted off.

  She woke with a start and looked at the clock, which read four a.m. Women’s voices emanated from the first floor. “I’ve got another fifty on Bitterhausen,” a familiar voice said.

  “Well, I just got off the phone with you-know-who. He upped the ante with a hundred on Butternuts,” Annie’s mom said.

  Oh crap, Annie thought. What the hell was going on downstairs? She knew that she was totally flying under the radar at her mom’s house. But she also realized, that like a moth to a kitchen globe lamp, she simply could not resist the mystery of what was happening one story beneath her.

  Annie eased out of her bed and snuck out her bedroom door.

  “Nancy,” Aunt Susan said. “How many times have I told you that it’s only one nut. Singular. Butternut. Besides, Mr. Butternut didn’t make the top five. Call your friend back. Talk him into placing his money on one of the other Hot Guys.”

  “You always have to be right, Susan,” Annie’s mom shouted over the loud whir of a blender.

  Annie crept down the hallway and lay on the floor, flat on her stomach next to the staircase. She peered down the stairs through the rungs into the kitchen.

  Mrs. McGillicuddy sat next to the kitchen table and answered her phone. “Yes? Hold on.” She held the phone away from her and covered it with her hand. “I am a pageant judge and cannot in good conscience take this call. But Joan Brady’s my niece. She’s a highly regarded lawyer who lives in Viroqua and she’s placing fifty on Wisconsin Dells. Someone talk to her, please?” She held out the phone.

  Gloria, the thin, pretty, forty-something waitress from Lucky Strikes Bowling Parlor, plucked it from Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand. “Fifty on Dells? I’m marking you down for it. Thanks, Joan.” She handed the phone back to her.

  This didn’t feel right. Annie snuck down the staircase ’till she could see further into the kitchen. Gloria wrote on a three by five card and pinned it onto a large corkboard set up in Nancy’s kitchen.

  The board was one that formerly held the goodwill donations at Oconomowoc High’s cafeteria, gathered along with the food offerings the day Frank died. It used to hold
donations to The Sierra Club, Save the Children and other charities. Now it was divided into five columns with five names at the top of each capitalized on a card. From left to right the names read: Appleton. Bitterhausen. Wisconsin Dells. Madison. Milwaukee. Under the names were multiple cards with people’s names and dollar figures.

  Her mom poured thick velvety drinks from the blender into tall glasses and spiked them with pineapple wedges. “Our newest member isn’t here yet, but I do think we are past due for refreshments.”

  The phone rang again. Susan picked up and cradled the phone to her ear. “Okay, Pepe. Sounds good.” She hung up the phone. “Seventy-five on Madison from the crew at Pepe’s Pizzeria.”

  Her mom handed out the frosty drinks. “I do love my organic Piña Coladas. To my fellow Wild Women: felicitations on money procured and jobs well done!” The women toasted, clinked their glasses and sipped.

  “Sweet,” Mrs. McGillicuddy said. “You have outdone yourself, Nancy.”

  Annie’s eyes practically spun in her head as she realized—Mr. Bitterhausen wasn’t the lynchpin of the illegal betting ring. Her mom’s Wild Women group was. And even though she meant to say it silently in her head, she simply couldn’t contain her frustration and screamed, “Oh. My. God!”

  “Well, it’s about time,” her mom said. “I thought I’d have to power up the Skil-saw to wake you up. I poured you a cocktail. Look, it even has fresh fruit. It’s heart healthy and filled with fiber, which is good for one’s digestive tract.” She poked a straw in it and held out the glass to Annie who clung to the railing and made her way to the bottom of the stairs.

  Annie accepted the glass and took a deep long gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You and your Wild Women friends are the illegal betting ring? You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. Mrs. McGillicuddy? I’m giving you a D.”

  Mrs. McGillicuddy held up her hands in protest. “I am completely innocent.”

  “Innocent?” Annie felt her blood pressure rise. “Innocent?” She took another slug of her drink. “All of you are profiting off the death of a young man who was one of your own? I am appalled.” She downed her cocktail. “I am in shock. I am…” She slurped the liquid from the bottom of the glass. “I am in need of another drink.”

  Nancy threw ingredients into the blender and fired it up. “Honey. We’re doing nothing illegal. We’re simply collecting money for the Hot Guys charities.”

  “Really? Because most people do that with a politely placed phone call. Or, an e-mail link.” Annie paced back and forth. “Most people don’t collect charitable donations with a cork board and index cards noted with who placed money on what horse, I mean, contestant.”

  “You mean who ‘donated’ money in a contestant’s honor,” Aunt Susan said.

  “The board was Aunt Susan’s idea,” Nancy said and handed Annie another Piña Colada.

  Annie guzzled about half of it. She’d been pure and good and well behaved this entire trip. And where had that gotten her? “Mom.”

  “Yes?” Nancy said.

  “These are freaking delicious. What’s your secret ingredient?”

  “I’ll be happy to divulge that recipe the moment you book the movers to re-locate you back home.”

  “No! What do I do with this information?” Annie resumed pacing. “Do I call the cops? Do I walk away and pretend it never happened? You know what? I’m done with you all. Go have your Wild Women Club. Make delectable drinks, perform good deeds and get natural-looking facelifts. I’m through. Caput. Finito. Adios. Done-diddy-done.” She plopped the rest of her drink down on the counter and opened the back door.

  “You do realize you’re wearing your pjs outside of the house?” Aunt Susan asked.

  “Call the cops on me. Go ahead, I dare you.” Annie strode onto the back yard.

  Slightly buzzed, Annie walked on her mom’s lawn toward her family’s rickety pier. She was in shock. Her mom’s Wild Women Group was the gambling ring. But her mom insisted nothing was illegal about her group’s activities. That they were merely collecting money for charity. Still, this whole thing smelled a little fishy and she had no idea what to do.

  Should she turn the Wild Women into the PD for further questioning? She pulled out her phone and called Rafe. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered.

  “Hey,” a woman’s voice answered. “Party’s on. Speak up—it’s a little loud here.”

  Yes, it was loud. Music played, people laughed. “Sorry, wrong number.” Annie hung up and dialed again.

  The same woman picked up. “Who is this?” she asked. “Hey, Rafe! Pass me one of your dad’s margaritas, por favor.”

  Annie frowned. “I’m, um—is this Raphael Campillio’s phone?”

  “Yes, I still like salt on the rim. Nothing changes, mi mejor amigo.” The woman giggled. “This is Alma. Who is this?”

  “Annie Graceland. I’m Raphael’s girlfriend.”

  “That’s not possible, sweetie. Raphael already has a girlfriend. Me.”

  Annie broke out into a sweat. “Let me talk to him.”

  “Again, not possible,” Alma said. “Oh thanks, Raphael. You’re the best! No—it’s just a carpet cleaning company. Of course I’m hanging up. Just having a little fun, first. Mmm. This tastes sinful.”

  “I don’t know who you are, how you got a hold of his phone, or what you think you’re pulling. Put Raphael Campillio on the line, now!”

  “Or you’ll what? Make me eat cupcakes and slather me in icing?”

  The music suddenly hushed to a low volume. Alma had obviously stepped into a quieter room. “Look, chiquita. Let’s face facts. You’re two thousand miles away. I’m at Raphael’s family reunion. Where I’ve been every year since it began. You believe that you’ve been dating him for about four months. But, I’ve known Raphael since we were teenagers. We have our ups and downs. We fall in and out of each other’s lives. And in the end? We always find our way back to each other. Because that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Annie sputtered.

  “Believe this,” Alma hissed. “Rafe’s mother calls me ‘daughter.’ I’m best friends with five of his cousins. He might enjoy playing with you right now, but rest assured, I’m the girl he’ll be marrying. So you can call it a day, now, or wait for the inevitable. I suggest the former.”

  Annie reeled. “What?”

  “Bye-bye, now. That’s what nice Midwesterner girls say. Right?” And the phone went dead.

  Annie stared at her phone and pitched it onto the grass. Raphael was involved with another woman? And it was serious? Had she been played for a fool, again? She stumbled around outside the home she grew up in. Leaving home didn’t require a key, locks or subterfuge. Leaving just required pain, shock, sadness and/or all of the above. But where, who and what was she leaving?

  Wild Women’s Piña Coladas

  Ingredients:

  Six oz of light rum

  Six Tbsp of crushed organic pineapple

  Six Tbsp of organic coconut milk

  Four cups crushed ice

  Pineapple wedges

  Instructions:

  Blend rum, crushed pineapple, coconut milk and crushed ice in an electric blender till smooth. Pour into festive glasses. Garnish with pineapple wedges on rim of glasses. Serve with straws.

  Note! This recipe only makes TWO drinks. Multiply accordingly.

  Twenty-two

  To Kiss or Not To Kiss

  The moon was full and shone brightly. Annie stomped down to the tiny, rotting, wooden dock that connected her mom’s back yard to the lake. It was night, still too hot and humid. But the facts could not be ignored. Alma was a bitch. But was she a lying bitch or a truthful bitch? Annie combed her mind for clues. She just didn’t know who to believe, let alone if she could trust her own judgment.

  She was exhausted, angry and frustrated. She gazed at Lac LaBelle. Moonlight reflected off its dark, calm, glassy surface. It looked revitalizing. When she was young, this la
ke calmed her. Wiped away her tears in summer months. Froze her negative thoughts during the winter.

  Annie walked to the end of the dock and sat down. She lowered herself on the rickety ladder and stuck her feet in the water. Still chilly, even in July. She descended into the lake, pushed herself away from the dock and swam.

  The water felt cool and refreshing. Welcoming and loving. It felt like she was finally coming home. She sunk below the water’s surface, rose back up, shook her head and swam further out into the lake. Her skin grew goosebumps, but it didn’t matter because she welcomed the wakeup call.

  Was nothing ever what she thought it was? Could Raphael really have been so cruel and calculating? He didn’t seem the type. And if he was, why, after going through a divorce with her soon to be ex-husband Mike, was she even bothering attempting to be in another relationship? Annie dove under the water.

  She barely spotted an ancient rowboat submerged at the lake’s bottom. The fading letters on its plankton covered side read “GRACELAND.” Dear God, it was her dad’s boat. Was he reaching out to her? She swam toward it. Stretched her hand out and touched the letters. Daddy, she thought. What would you do if nothing is what it seems? What would you do if you discovered that you loved two people at the same time? Which one would you trust? Or would you trust either of them?

  Annie’s lungs hurt and she realized their conversation would have to be continued later. She breaststroked, but something or someone yanked her down. She looked down and saw her foot caught in the thick moss covering the boat. No matter how hard she tried to swim, the moss pulled her back.

  She leaned down to extricate her foot, but she was hopelessly entangled. And Annie thought: so this was how she’d die. In a lake, next to the Graceland boat, outside her family home. It almost felt fitting.

  When someone ripped the moss from her ankle. Bare muscular male arms encircled her and dragged her toward the water’s surface. She and Jamie popped their heads up above the lake. Annie gasped for air. Jamie inhaled sharply and held onto her shoulders, keeping her head above water. “Drinking and drowning, Ms.?” he asked.

  She shook her head but clung to him, “Why are you here?” He was shirtless, ripped. When had her hometown become the hot guy capital of the whole freaking world? She tried not to stare at him. This was not helping her breathe easier.