by JB Lynn
Tossing the fishy monstrosity in the back of my car, I headed over to the B&B, figuring that if I ran into Alice I could show her how truly awful the dress was. At the very least, I could store the ugly thing in the attic so it wouldn’t be covered in dog hair before I had to wear it the next weekend.
There were only two cars parked in the lot and I didn’t recognize either.
I carried the dress inside, heading straight for the attic. I paused at the base of the attic stairs when I heard a scuffling noise coming from above. The last time there’d been that kind of racket up there was because a family of raccoons had taken up residence. They’d made a terrible mess and had been a pain to evict.
I considered turning around and leaving, but then I remembered that taking care of this sort of thing had fallen to Dirk the Jerk and he was no longer around to do it. I couldn’t in good conscience leave this for my aunts to find and deal with.
Putting down my dress, I slowly climbed the stairs, hoping that I’d be able to talk to the raccoons. If I could, maybe I could reason with them, or at least negotiate, and the exterminator could be kept away. Carefully I peered into the attic.
There were no raccoons.
There was just a rat.
A big, giant rat.
Templeton.
Aunt Loretta’s latest fiancé was burrowing through a hope chest, tossing old blankets and table linens every which way.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I spoke in a normal tone, but he jumped as though I’d shouted. He banged into the chest, and the lid slammed shut on his fingers.
“Dammit!” he bellowed, freeing his hand and blowing on his smashed fingers as though it would magically get rid of the pain.
I did my best not to smirk. I didn’t like or trust him, but it would have been impolite to laugh at his discomfort. Aunt Susan would have been impressed with my restraint.
Recovering his composure, he said, “You scared me, Margaret.”
“What were you doing?”
He looked to the chest and the pile of discarded textiles. “If you must know, I was looking for some bourbon.”
“Buried in a hope chest in the attic?” I wasn’t polite enough to keep my disbelief to myself.
“Susan got rid of all of the alcohol so that Leslie wouldn’t be tempted, but Loretta told me she’d kept her personal supply in the house.”
“Among the musty linens?”
“She didn’t tell me where.”
“Maybe because she doesn’t trust you.”
He frowned. “I never asked her. But I had a bad day and I was thinking a nip might take the edge off.”
“It isn’t even noon yet,” I told him.
He hung his head. “Clearly this isn’t my finest hour. Perhaps we could keep this just between the two of us?”
I considered it for a moment. When I’d told Aunt Loretta that I’d seen her last husband coming out of the strip club on a Wednesday afternoon she’d accused me of not wanting her to be happy. I had no doubt she’d react the same if I told her about Templeton’s treasure hunt.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He looked momentarily surprised and then flashed me a grateful grin. “So what brings you here today?”
“I wanted to—”
“Why is there a dress laid out in the hallway?” Aunt Susan demanded to know from the hallway below.
I shrugged at Templeton. “That’s why I’m here.” I clambered down the stairs. “I thought I’d hang it in the attic since we’re getting dressed here for the wedding.”
Aunt Susan, in her kung fu uniform, stared at the dress, clearly appalled. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
I nodded.
“It’s not pink.”
“Zeke says that Alice says that it’s salmon.”
“It’s disgusting.” Bending down, she examined it with morbid curiosity.
“You should see it when it’s on. My hips look wider than the Grand Canyon.”
“And you’re actually going to wear it?”
“You’re not helping matters.” I snatched it up. “I already don’t want to wear the thing, but you carrying on like it’s the ugliest piece of clothing you’ve ever seen is making me want to ‘accidentally’ spill a bottle of ink on it.” I was doing my best not to grouse about the dress since I hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic about anything else wedding-related and was tired of feeling like I was being a bad sport about the whole thing.
“It’s not that bad,” Templeton said from behind me.
Something in Aunt Susan’s gaze flickered and I got the distinct impression she wanted to use some of her kung fu moves on him.
I thrust the offensive garment at him. “If you like it so much, you can find a safe place for it in the attic.”
He took with a smile. “My pleasure.” He disappeared up the stairs.
“Care to come have a cup of tea with me, Margaret?” She couched it as an invitation, but I knew it was really a command.
“I’d love to.”
“I visited Katie this morning.”
“I haven’t been there yet today. I had to pick up the dress.”
She shook her head slightly, leading the way to her personal living space. “You shouldn’t feel the need to account for your time. I know how much you’ve done for that child.”
She didn’t know I’d killed two men in order to have the money to provide the best possible medical care for Katie, but I didn’t think I should tell her that. So I said, “Any change?”
“She opened her eyes a few times while I was there.” Aunt Susan led the way through her bedroom. As always, her bed was made and nothing was out of place.
“Did she seem to see you?”
With a wave of her hand she ushered me out into the enclosed porch filled with chintz, white wicker, and sunlight. “No. She didn’t seem to focus on anything.”
I sank into the familiar settee, watching as she turned on the electric teakettle she always kept at the ready.
She carried her ornate wooden tea chest over to me. Opening it, she waited for me to select a bag.
I chose black currant. I always choose black currant because it’s my favorite. She knows that, otherwise she wouldn’t keep it stocked. Long ago, just after her body had been discovered, Darlene’s orange pekoe had disappeared from the selection. I noticed that Theresa’s chamomile was now gone too. Marlene’s mint was still tucked into a corner.
“What was in your memory box Fifi destroyed?” I asked as Susan returned the tea chest to its place.
She glanced over at me. “That’s a strange question.”
“Alice and I were talking about Fifi this morning.”
“Ah.” She chose two china mugs from the rack near the teakettle. “She mentioned she’d met your . . . pet.”
“Anyway,” I said quickly, not wanting to get into an argument about my choice of companions, “I realized I never knew what was in the box that Fifi destroyed.”
Susan frowned at the teakettle as if hoping she could intimidate it into whistling. “Memories.” She looked out at the barn in the backyard. “Plans. Did you know that we had plans drawn up to make the barn into a living space?”
I shook my head.
“We wanted to turn it into a couple of apartments.”
“For you?”
The kettle whistled. She busied herself with pouring the water into the mugs.
“We debated that. I wanted them to be for family. The twins wanted to make them long-term residences for some of the guests. They liked the idea of the family all living under one roof.”
She handed me my cup of tea. “Junior Mints?”
“But I haven’t had my lunch yet,” I teased. “Aren’t you worried I’ll ruin my appetite?”
“Special dispensation for having to wear that dress.” She smiled as she pulled a box of my favorite childhood candy out from behind a stack of books. “They might be a little stale.”
I got choked up as I took them, realizing that while my dad might have never known what my favorite snack was, my aunt always had. She kept them on hand, even though it had been years since we’d sat here, visiting like this.
Aunt Susan was crusty and tough, but she’d always been there for me. I hadn’t always liked her methods, but she’d never let me down.
I looked out at the barn, knowing what I had to do.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” I said slowly.
“The something that made you snap at Leslie?” She settled into the seat opposite me and picked up her current knitting project, which just looked like a mess of hot pink, black, and white yarn to me, but which I knew she’d transform into something beautiful.
“It’s been on my mind.”
“I knew there was something. I’ve never seen you lash out at your favorite aunt before.” Her knitting needles fell into their familiar clickety-clack rhythm.
“She’s not my favorite,” I denied quickly.
A sad smile played at her lips. “Loretta is obsessed with herself, I’m a hard-ass, and Leslie’s a squish. She was always the favorite of all you girls.”
Instead of telling her that I knew she was a lot more than just a hard-ass, I blurted out, “Katie’s Aunt Abilene is suing me for custody.”
The needles fell silent and she closed her eyes as though the news had been a physical blow.
“I’ve already consulted an attorney who specializes in custody cases,” I told her quickly.
Folding her hands in her lap, she opened her eyes, fixing me with a steady stare. “What did he say?”
I blew the steam off my cup, trying to figure out the best way to couch what I had to tell her, what I was going to ask of her.
“Margaret?”
“According to my father, she has a lot of power and money.”
“And how would Archie know? Was he paroled and no one told me?”
“Apparently Dirk told him that he was afraid of her.”
Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “And how do you know this?”
I sipped my tea. “Alice wanted to tell him in person that she was getting married. She asked me to take her.”
“Theresa said you always refused to go visit with her.”
I shrugged.
“Margaret?”
Feeling like I was ten and had been caught doing something wrong and was going to have dessert taken away for a week, I fidgeted in my chair. The wicker creaked in protest. “I’d gone to tell him that Theresa was dead,” I confessed on a breath.
“When?”
“Not long after the accident.” I looked away, unable to make eye contact. I’d failed to visit my mother, her sister, at the mental health facility where she resided when I’d been asked to, but I’d gone to see my incarcerated father. What did that make me?
Picking up her needles, she picked up the rhythm that had been interrupted by the news about Abilene. “Good.”
“Good?” I looked up at her, surprised.
She was staring out at the barn. “It was the right thing to do. He shouldn’t have found out from a stranger that his daughter had died. What did the attorney say?”
“Well,” I said slowly, “she suggested that if I could prove that I could provide a stable home environment, with a support system, that I’d have a fighting chance at maintaining custody of Katie.” The last part was a wee embellishment, but I’d decided to put a positive spin on the whole thing.
Susan switched her focus from the barn to me. “And how are you supposed to do that?”
“I could move back here?” I suggested weakly. “I mean I know it would be a huge imposition and that you’d have to talk it over with Loretta and Leslie, but if I don’t . . . Katie could end up in Vegas.”
I waited for her to remind me that only a few days ago I’d pledged to never move back or that I’d had no problem leaving when I hadn’t needed anything from them. I steeled myself for her attack, vowing to not retaliate. I’d do whatever it took to keep Katie. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, prepared for the worst.
“It’s not an imposition,” Aunt Susan said mildly. “This is your home, Margaret. It always has been. It always will be.” She put down her needles, leaned forward, and patted my knee. “You should know that.”
I sank back into my chair, deflated. “But—”
“When do you want to move back in?”
“I—”
“I had new plans drawn up for the barn last year when it looked like Theresa and Dirk might be breaking up. I even got estimates from contractors. Even hired one. When Templeton came on the scene I got the permits, thinking I couldn’t live under the same roof as that insufferable man.”
“You?” My head was spinning with all she was telling me. I twisted in my seat to look at the barn. Was that going to be my new home?
“I haven’t told anyone, but the construction begins the day after Alice’s wedding.”
“You haven’t told anyone that a major construction project is going to be taking place?”
“And listen to Tweedledee and Tweedledum weigh in on it incessantly?”
I wasn’t sure if she was referring to Leslie and Loretta, or Loretta and Templeton, but since she said it with such venom, I thought it wise not to ask.
“No, I had a feeling that we’d need the space. Always follow your gut, Margaret. Always.”
It was good advice.
Chapter Nineteen
HAVING TACKLED ONE heavy-duty request, I went home to gather reinforcements before attempting another near-impossible feat.
“Your boyfriend was here,” God called from the kitchen table the instant I walked into the apartment.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I tossed Doomsday a treat and checked God’s water to make sure he had enough.
The lizard rolled his eyes . . . which was just plain gross.
“Fine. The redhead was here. Just waltzed right in and left something in the bedroom.”
“What do you mean he waltzed right in?” I could have sworn I’d locked the door before leaving.
“You don’t think she”—he pointed at Doomsday, who was lying on her back, waiting for a belly rub—“stopped him, do you?”
“Meat!” the dog panted.
“He fed her. Didn’t even look at me, but actually brought food for the beast.” God sounded put out.
Curious, I went into the bedroom. A large cardboard box sat smack in the middle of my unmade bed. Flipping it open, I reached inside and felt something cool and hard. I pulled it out.
It was a giant jar of gourmet olives.
Touched by Patrick’s thoughtfulness, I smiled. Putting it aside, I reached into the box again and pulled out a folder. I scanned its contents quickly. It was a complete dossier on Jose Garcia. It contained surveillance photos of Garcia, outside his house and in his car, his home address, the location of his daughter’s wedding, and even the wedding itinerary.
I reached into the box again and encountered something else cold and hard. I pulled it out slowly. It was a handgun.
Instinctively I checked to make sure the safety was on before I laid it beside the olives.
Looking into the box, I saw a pile of black fabric. I pulled it out and realized it was a waitress’s uniform. The name tag said “Katie.”
Short of drawing a bull’s-eye on Garcia’s forehead, Patrick had given me everything I needed.
“What is it?” God called from the other room.
Tossing the uniform on the bed, I snatched up the olives and dossier and went back to the kitchen. “It’s what I need to kill Garcia.”
“No flowers? No candy? No cheesy mix tapes?”
“I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.” I opened the olives. “Aren’t you too young to even remember mix tapes?”
“The other one was here too.”
“What other one?”
“The other boyfriend.”
I considered whipping the lid of the olive ja
r at him like some kind of deadly ninja weapon. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Mr. ’Roid Rage was here, but Doomsday scared him off.”
“DeeDee,” Doomsday whined.
The lizard shook his head at her. “Apparently she’s learning the alphabet, but the only letter she knows is D.”
“DeeDee,” the dog barked.
“She wants to change her name from Doomsday to DeeDee,” I explained.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Apparently she doesn’t think Doomsday is girly enough.”
“Save me,” God muttered.
“Paul was here?” I asked, trying to get the conversation back on course.
“But Doomsday scared—” the lizard began.
“DeeDee,” the dog corrected.
“But DeeDee”—God stressed the two syllables like they were the most despicable things that had ever left his tongue—“scared him off.”
“Good girl, DeeDee,” I praised, tossing her an olive as a reward for her guard dog duties.
“She only growled because I told her to,” God groused.
“What did he want?”
God stared at me like I was even stupider than the dog. “I don’t know. It wasn’t like he was announcing his intentions as he tried to break in.”
I tilted my head to the side, acknowledging that it had been a pretty stupid thing to ask.
“I thought you were going to pick up your dress,” God said. “Did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget. I just took it to my aunts’ place so no one would S-H-E-D on it.”
DeeDee didn’t seem to notice that I was spelling so that she wouldn’t understand.
“Smart idea,” God said.
“I do have them occasionally.”
“Very occasionally.”
I yawned. Not the most scintillating response, but I was tired. “I need your help.”
“With what?” He flicked his tail suspiciously.
“Alice wants me to invite her mom to the wedding.”
“And that’s a challenge?”
“It would probably be a good thing if I did it in a nice or at least polite way.”
“And you think that’s too much for you to handle?”
I shrugged. “Might be.”
“You know,” the lizard said in his most bored tone, “there’s no law that says you have to take care of everyone all the time.”