A Hard Bargain

by Jane Tesh

  Jerry said, “But it could be a really good second rate horror film.”

  She glared at him. “Jerry, just because you like all that supernatural stuff.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about Mantis Man,” he said. “Fill me in.”

  “It’s ridiculous. It’s like that stupid story about the Hook. Teenagers out on a lonely road, their car won’t start, they see glowing red eyes and some ghastly creature tries to eat them up.”

  “So people have seen this thing?”

  “Drunk teenagers and old coots who have nothing better to do than run around in the woods all night.”

  “What’s Mantis Man supposed to be? A mutated insect? An alien?”

  “Oh, there are all kinds of stories. He’s a hobo who fell into some radioactive swamp gas. He’s a pet let loose from a UFO. He’s an escaped experiment from Peterson Air Force Base.”

  “And he looks like a praying mantis?”

  “Yes, a great big stupid bug-eyed praying mantis.”

  Jerry looked at me in mock anger. “Mac, why have you kept this from me?”

  “I knew it would stand in the way of you getting your doctorate in history.”

  Twenty blinked, trying to follow our exchange, and gave it up. “Well, I had to come out here and tell you the bad news in person.” She pointed a shiny orange fingernail at Jerry. “And Jerry Fairweather, if you let those movie people use the Eberlin house to make a gory movie about Mantis Man, I’m not sure I’ll ever speak to you again.”

  “Take it easy,” he said. “They may not want to use the house.”

  “I’m going to start a campaign against this, see if I don’t.”

  “Are there that many people in town who’d object to a movie about the mantis?” I asked.

  “Everyone in my gardening club, for starters.”

  “Guess they wouldn’t like any kind of insect,” Jerry said with a grin.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Twenty, all you need is a really big fly swatter.”

  “If you’re not going to take this seriously!”

  “I never take anything seriously.”

  Twenty turned to me. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Madeline? You see how the town could be overrun with awful Mantis Man stuff? Cheap tee shirts that say, ‘I Saw the Mantis Man,’ or ‘Celosia, Home of the Mantis Man.’ We’d never live it down.”

  “It could be a lot of fun,” Jerry said.

  Twenty was almost in tears. “You’re not from here. You don’t know how people feel.”

  “Just wait before you get too upset,” I said. “The movie might not even happen. Voltage Films is a small company. They could run out of money. They could decide to go somewhere else.”

  She set her mouth in a grim line. “I’m going to see to that.”

  Twenty left, still grumbling. Jerry did a little grumbling, too.

  “There’s a giant praying mantis in the neighborhood and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’ve never heard of Mantis Man. Didn’t the Fairweather boys try to find him?”

  “The Fairweather boys were dealing with other issues. But I want to find him now. Where does he hang out?”

  “Why don’t you ask Austin and Denisha? They’ve probably seen him.”

  “I think it’s terrific. Our very own monster. Twenty’s just overreacting. Do you suppose we could catch it?”

  “And have you tramping through the woods all night with a net and a can of Raid? We had enough trouble with the disappearing cows.”

  “I don’t care what that farmer said, those cows were taken by aliens.”

  “No, those cows were taken by college students who had a very warped sense of humor.” During our college years, some kids had spray-painted cows in Day-Glo patterns. Jerry had gone on and on about aliens. “This Mantis Man is just some kid dressed up.”

  Jerry wouldn’t give up. “Or it could be a real scientific find.”

  My cell phone beeped. “There he is now, calling to tell you he doesn’t exist.”

  My caller wasn’t Mantis Man. It was Ted Stacy. “Hello, Madeline. Just calling to see if you’re free for dinner.”

  Despite all his good qualities, Ted is just, well, not Jerry. Like me, he’s divorced, but unlike me, he often expresses his desire to have children. I keep hoping this is enough of a wedge between us, but Ted doesn’t seem to mind.

  Still, dinner wasn’t a bad idea. Ted might know something about Kirby Willet. “That sounds very nice, thanks.”

  “Pick you up, or meet here?”

  “I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  I closed my phone. “Dinner with Ted. I’ll ask about the mantis for you.”

  I was a little surprised by Jerry’s frown. Usually, my going out with Ted doesn’t even register with him. “That’s the second time this week, isn’t it?”

  So he had noticed, after all. This was new. “I’m hoping Ted can tell me more about Kirby Willet.”

  He looked as if he wasn’t sure what to say. Then he said, “Oh. Okay. I’m going to see if Nell needs any help.”

  As I put on one of my sleeveless sundresses and matching sandals and tugged my comb through my short dark curls, an odd thought occurred to me. Was it possible Jerry was jealous of Ted? This was so unlike Jerry, I had to dismiss the thought—still, the way he’d frowned, as if he didn’t like the idea of me having dinner with Ted, even though I’d been out with Ted several times. Jerry knew it wasn’t serious. Didn’t he?

  ***

  Ted and I decided to eat at Celosia Square, a new little complex of shops and restaurants. We like the Peach Garden best, a Chinese restaurant featuring shrimp and rice. I wondered briefly what Jerry was doing at the house, if Nell had stuffed him up the chimney or hung him out on the clothesline.

  Stop it, I told myself. You’re with Ted. You’re working.

  Ted held my chair for me and then sat down. We ordered the special and hot tea. Ted still had on his crisp pinstriped shirt and gray slacks. His tie, I noticed, was plain gray. Dull plain gray.

  Get a grip.

  The waitress brought the tea in a fat blue and white pot and two matching cups. Ted thanked her and poured the tea. “I see you’ve been busy, Madeline. I was afraid there might not be enough work for you in town.”

  “More than enough,” I said. “Missing umbrellas, missing library books, and a missing Kirby Willet. Do you know him?”

  Ted passed one cup to me. “Quite a character. Always trying to invent something new. Invented a self-propelling lawn mower a few years back, but it never did work the way he wanted it to. Made some interesting patterns on the Methodist churchyard, though. Need sugar?”

  “One pack, please. He worked at the Wayfarer Motel and at the newspaper. Anywhere else?”

  “He did a lot of odd jobs to support himself while he invented things. I think he worked for a while at the paint store, and I know he bagged groceries at the Super Food for a while.”

  I tore open the sugar pack and dumped it into the tea. The tea was way too hot to drink. I blew on the cup and managed a cautious sip. “Any idea where he might have gone?”

  Ted shook his head. “Sometimes he’d leave town for months. I think he went to Washington on occasion to the patent office.”

  “But none of his inventions ever worked?”

  “No. Poor guy. He kept trying, though.”

  Our food arrived. We ate for a while, and then I asked Ted about Mantis Man.

  “Just a rumor,” he said. “Somebody had a few too many and started seeing things. When we were kids, my brothers and I used to dare each other to go into the woods by the covered bridge. If you spent the night there, old Mantis Man was supposed to suck out your brain—not that my brothers had that much brain to begin with.”

  I scooped up a plump shrimp with my chopsticks. “What do you think of Voltage Films making a movie about Mantis Man?”

  Ted
passed the little square dish of ginger sauce. “Well, I understand some people are upset about it, but I can’t see that it will do any harm. Probably bring in some tourists, and that’s a good thing. We could have our own Mantis Man Days.”

  “Twenty’s very unhappy. She says this kind of thing will hurt Celosia’s reputation.”

  “The movie might be a flop. No sense getting upset over something that might not even happen.”

  I liked Ted’s straightforward approach to everything, but I couldn’t help thinking how differently Jerry reacted to the idea of a Mantis Man. Ted has a good sense of humor, but I couldn’t see him running through the woods at night chasing spectral insects.

  He did, however, insist on paying for dinner.

  “No, now, we haven’t had a chance to go out for a while,” he said, as I reached for my billfold. “It’s my treat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Madeline, may I mention again how glad I am you decided to stay in Celosia?”

  “Thanks, Ted. That’s really nice of you.”

  “I know it was rough for a while.”

  “It’s tough being the new kid in town.”

  He smiled. “I know you want people to take you seriously. I think most of them do now.”

  “I can’t really do anything about it if they don’t,” I said. “There’ll always be some people who can’t see past the tiara.”

  ***

  When I got back to the house, Jerry, Austin, and Denisha were running in the meadow, chasing fireflies. I sat down on the porch to watch. There was a great deal of yelling, whooping, and triumphant cries of “Got one!” After a while, Austin came running to the porch steps, his jar full.

  “Seventeen! I win!”

  Denisha came panting up. “I have eighteen.”

  “You do not!”

  Jerry came next. All three sat on the steps and counted their fireflies. Fortunately for peace and sanity, Austin and Denisha each had seventeen, and Jerry had fifteen.

  “And to our lucky winners goes the grand prize of brownies and ice cream,” he announced.

  The kids dashed into the house for their snack. Jerry held up his jar and watched the yellow-green glow of the fireflies.

  “How was dinner?”

  “Fine.”

  “Learn anything useful?”

  “Pretty much the same information. Willet’s a hopeless inventor. Mantis Man will suck out your brains.”

  His gaze was still on the jar. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t exactly know how to say it.”

  I was suddenly aware of how loud my heart was beating. “Sounds serious.”

  I don’t know what he planned to say. I never got the chance to hear it. Austin and Denisha charged out of the house, arguing fiercely.

  “Jerry, Denisha took all of the corners when she knows I like them best!”

  “Well, you poked your finger in the ice cream, your dirty bug finger!”

  “Okay, okay,” Jerry said. “Settle down.”

  He took them back into the house, and he must have settled their quarrel because I didn’t hear any more fuss. Of course, by the time he got back to the porch, his serious moment had passed.

  “What did you want to say, Jerry?”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. Maybe later.”

  He tipped the jars on their sides and set the fireflies free. As the little sparks of light danced back across the meadow, I thought, When I find Kirby Willet, I’ll ask him to invent something that will stop any and all interruptions!

  ***

  The next morning, I came downstairs, expecting to have breakfast with Jerry and hoping he might feel like talking. Instead, I found Rick Rialto sitting in my chair. Jerry and I get up around eight. He likes to cook, so I look forward to pancakes, french toast, or whatever he decides to make. Now here was Rick in my chair, eating my pancakes and drinking juice out of my favorite glass. He even had his shoes off.

  I sat down at the opposite end of the table. “Make yourself at home, Rick.”

  He saluted me with his glass. “Thanks. Already did.”

  Jerry turned from the stove. He’d flipped his pink flamingo patterned tie over his shoulder to keep it out of the batter. “How many pancakes do you want, Mac?”

  “Two.”

  “Coming up.”

  Rick shoveled another mouthful in. “Great pancakes, J. I forgot what a good cook you are.”

  “Is there some reason you’re here this morning?” I asked.

  “Just stopped by for breakfast.”

  I knew this wasn’t all. “And?”

  “And to let J know the pet psychic thing is going well.”

  “I’m so happy for you.”

  He chuckled and reached for the syrup. “Mrs. Klumpforth was delighted to find out little Perkie her parakeet enjoyed the special seed mix she bought for him.”

  “How delighted?”

  “Fifty dollars delighted.”

  Jerry flipped two pancakes on my plate. “Mrs. Klumpforth can afford it, Mac.”

  I wasn’t going to ruin my breakfast explaining to these two that wasn’t the point.

  I could tell Rick enjoyed my discomfort. “And Mister Blakely was happy to know his dog Roger liked his new doghouse, although Roger mentioned he’d like to sleep inside when it got colder.”

  I didn’t answer. Jerry brought his plate to the table and sat down. He and Rick shared a glance I couldn’t interpret. I wondered how long Rick had been here and what they had discussed before I came downstairs.

  Rick took another drink of juice. “So, J, when are the movie people supposed to get here?”

  “Some time today, I think.”

  “Well, I can’t believe no one here has taken advantage of this Mantis Man thing.”

  “I think most people are embarrassed by it.”

  “But think of the possibilities! Mantis Man Mania! They could have a street festival, a Mantis Man fair, Mantis Man tee shirts, key rings, mugs—it’d be bigger than Christmas.”

  Twenty’s nightmare coming true. “Maybe somebody tried that already.”

  “It sounds like gold to me. Then Mac can quit worrying about old people and their pets.”

  I still didn’t believe his being here was a coincidence. “How did you hear about the movie company coming to Celosia?”

  He shrugged. “It’s all over Parkland.”

  A minor league company like Voltage Films? Rick’s story was getting shadier by the minute.

  “Plus I have connections with people in the business.” He shot me a glance before saying to Jerry, “So how are things with Olivia?”

  Leave it to Rick to remember Jerry’s old girlfriend. “That’s over.”

  “Really? My, my.” Rick grinned. “What’s this world coming to, eh, Mac?”

  Before I could answer, Rick looked at his watch and said, “Oh, hell, I gotta run. Some cat’s peeing all over this lady’s sofa, and she wants me to delve deep into pussy’s soul and plug the leak.” He got up and shoved his feet into his shoes. “Gotta push off. Thanks for the snack, J. I’ll get back to you on Mantis Man. Mac, you look radiant, as always.”

  Glowing with anger, I thought, glad to see him leave.

  Jerry looked at my plate. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Being around Rick makes it hard to swallow.”

  “Those pancakes are cold by now. Let me fix you some more.” He went to the stove and poured batter on the grill. “Rick won’t be around for long. He never stays in one town more than a week.”

  “Just enough time for the citizens to get wise.”

  He nodded. “I used to do the same thing.”

  “‘Used to.’ That sounds promising.”

  He flipped the pancakes. “How long have we been living here, Mac?”

  “Almost a month. That’s some kind of record, isn’t it?”

  “I like it here.”

  “I do, too,” I said.
“You still going through with the B&B idea?”

  “Maybe.” He put the fresh pancakes on a clean plate and brought them to the table. “Here you go, madam. Deux flapjacks à la Fairweather.”

  “Merci, Gaston.”

  He sat down and passed the syrup. “What’s up with you today?”

  I got the Celosia Public Library overdue list out of my pocket. There were four major offenders. James World owed 101 Ways to Cook Spaghetti. Mazie Hurwitz had yet to return Tatting For Beginners. Bruce Selden was hanging onto The Complete Works of Emily Dickenson, and Pat Fenner had decided to keep Stories From Great Operas for her own personal library.

  I handed the list to Jerry. “Want to ride with me, partner? I’m headed out after some mean desperados.”

  “The Library’s Most Wanted? Sure.” He set the list by his plate and read the first name. “101 Ways to Cook Spaghetti? He should’ve worked his way through all one hundred and one by now. And Mazie Hurwitz must be a champion tatter.” He poured more syrup on his pancakes. “What is tatting, anyway?”

  “Some kind of lace-making technique.”

  “Oh, here’s a good book, Stories From Great Operas. I have a copy of that.”

  “Don’t start singing.”

  “You’re just jealous because you don’t know any Italian.”

  “Or French or German. No opera. It’s too early in the day.”

  He finished his pancakes. “Okay.”

  “And no Mantis Man scheme with Rick.”

  “Well, I can’t promise anything there. Mantis Man is just the kind of gimmick that can really help a small town.”

  “I think you can find a better way to help Celosia.”

  He grinned and straightened his tie. “Let’s start by bringing some library criminals to justice.”

  ***

  I figured someone who kept a spaghetti cookbook for six months would be large and sloppy. James World was a short, trim man. When he answered the door, I said the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said.

  “Mister World, I’m Madeline Maclin and this is Jerry Fairweather. We’re from the Public Library, and we’re here for 101 Ways to Cook Spaghetti.”

  “Oh, my,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to get that back. One moment, please.”