Just You Wait: A Grace Street Mystery (Grace Street Mysteries)

by Jane Tesh

  “Only if you agree to call her tonight.”

  “All right.”

  I found Taffy and Manuel Estaban outside the club. He was kissing her hand, but it was a good-bye kiss.

  “Such a triumphant evening, my dear. Congratulations again. I will see you in class.”

  He got in his car and drove away. Taffy turned and saw me.

  “I should think you’d get tired of being a spy.”

  “Charlie’s sorry. You know how his temper is.”

  “Why didn’t he come tell me that himself?”

  “I didn’t want him punching Estaban unless there’s a good reason.”

  There was a long pause. “Did he like any of the songs at all?”

  “Taffy, whether he did or not, you know what a sacrifice it was for him to come. Does he have to like your songs to like you?”

  “But they’re such a part of me.”

  “There’s bound to be a part of Charlie you don’t like.”

  “He’s so damn stubborn.”

  “So are you.”

  “I don’t want to see him for a while. I need my space.”

  In your perplexing ditch with no sides? “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

  Back at the table, Charlie was on his fourth beer.

  “What did she say, Randall?”

  “She needs a little space.”

  He raised his glass in salute. “Woe, my life is saturated at last.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Show me.”

  Saturday morning, Kary slept late, so I didn’t get a chance to ask her about Operation Millicent. I spent the morning at the Drug Palace, where I caught another teenage girl shoplifting another bracelet.

  “Damn,” I said to Ted as a policeman conferred with the teen and her mom. “What is it with these bracelets? Why don’t you just give one to every customer?”

  He took the bracelet and hung it back on the revolving rack. “It’s the latest fad. In another week or two, they’ll all be after something else.”

  “You’d think they’d want something prettier than this.”

  He shrugged. “You never know what’s going to catch on with the kids.”

  “If I catch many more kids, I’ll have all the shoplifters in Parkland.”

  Ted went back behind the counter and started straightening the boxes of film. I leaned on the counter. “What do you know about BeautiQueen cosmetics?”

  “My wife uses it. She says it’s good stuff. A little pricey.”

  “Any complaints or scandals?”

  “None that I know of.”

  He finished straightening the film and moved down to the rows of cigarettes. “Now that I think of it, my wife’s going to a makeup party this afternoon.”

  The perfect spying job for Kary. “A BeautiQueen party?”

  “Yeah, at one of her friend’s.” Ted wrote the address down and handed it to me. “What do you think’s going on, Randall?”

  I wish I knew. “I’m trying to learn all I can.”

  ***

  I got home around noon. As I came up the porch steps, the slow firm pounding of a scale meant another one of Kary’s students was here. I glanced at her student, a little girl, ten or twelve, dressed in white shorts and the latest Disney cartoon tee shirt, her long brown hair tied back with a matching ribbon. After a few deep breaths, the pressure in my chest eased. I was getting better at this, but the occasional glimpse of a child who reminded me of Lindsey could still freeze my heart.

  I sat down in my office and stared at the starburst patterns of my screen saver. Outside my window, Camden was mowing the front yard with his old-fashioned push mower, the kind you really push. The blades made a steady whirring sound, sort of like my brain trying to process all the information about my cases. Inside, the piano notes marched up the scale slowly and deliberately, the way I’d mounted my campaign to win Kary’s heart. After our talk at the Elms, my heart was considerably lighter, and I had to believe things would improve, but like a sudden jarringly wrong note, my plans could all fall apart.

  After Kary’s student had gone, I heard her talking to Angie, asking her to help with a lace trim on a pageant dress and how the house hunting had gone.

  “Pretty good,” Angie’s voice replied from the island. “We’re going to put in an offer for the one on River Street. Most of the places we looked at were way out of our range, and there were plenty of dumps we could afford, but this one’s a good choice for us.”

  “I still wish you’d stay here. The house won’t be the same without you and Rufus.”

  “Aww, that’s right sweet of you, but Rufe and I need our own place. Why don’t you heat up one of those casseroles for lunch?”

  In thirty minutes, the smell of something cheesy filled the house. When I came around to the island, I found Angie taking up most of the sofa, her sausage-sized fingers delicately pulling threads through the lace of a short pink gown. In the kitchen, Kary pulled a large dish out of the oven and set it on top.

  “Mystery casserole number three is ready.”

  I rummaged in the fridge for a soda. “It smells good.”

  “I think it’s supposed to be a taco casserole. See the little bits of chips?”

  “Why don’t you try it first?”

  Kary spooned out a portion onto her plate and tasted a small bite. “Not bad.”

  We brought our plates to the table. “Learn anything from Millicent?” I asked.

  “I had a few moments to talk with her after the show. She told me quite a bit about George, and then she went off on a tangent about how he wanted to make up for his bad behavior and brought everyone gifts from BeautiQueen. She doesn’t like peach, by the way.”

  “So, nothing we can use.”

  “Not really. But I’ll keep trying.”

  “Well, I have a mission for you. Ted’s wife is going to a BeautiQueen party this afternoon at a friend’s house. You can go and get the scoop on the company and its products.”

  “It’s this afternoon?”

  “Oh, hell, I forgot. You have a matinee.”

  “When is the party?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “The show is at two, so orchestra members need to be there by one thirty at the very latest. Shoot a monkey! This is exactly the kind of thing I could do.”

  “‘Shoot a monkey’?”

  “It’s one of Rufus’s cleaner expressions.”

  Angie lumbered up to the table, still carrying the lace dress. She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ll go.”

  “You will?” I was taken aback.

  “To a BeautiQueen party? Sure. I use that stuff.”

  I straightened in my chair to get a better look at her. She was still the same three hundred fifty-pound woman, tiny bright eyes above cheek bubbles of fat, a shapeless dress like a tent covering God knows how many rolls of arm and middle. No doubt my expression was slightly skeptical.

  But Kary looked pleased. “Angie, that’s a great idea.”

  “I’d be happy to go.”

  I still wasn’t sure. “It’s a secret mission.”

  “Oh, and Kary wouldn’t stand out?”

  “You may have a point.” Actually, now that I thought about it, Angie might be a better choice. Everyone would be staring at her, wondering how many gallons of base coat she would need.

  She snapped off a thread. “What’s the deal with this makeup? You figure somebody’s smuggling heroin in jars of overnight cream?”

  “Nothing quite so dramatic. I need more information on Folly Harper and BeautiQueen products. There’s a party this afternoon, and I need a ringer.”

  Her grin made her eyes disappear. “Ding dong.”

  I had deputized various members of the household before with good results. Angie looked like Queen of the White
Trash Mamas, but I knew beneath that tonnage lurked a shrewd mind. I also knew she could take care of herself, and she could move a lot faster than anyone would suspect.

  “Okay,” I said. “Your assignment, should you choose to accept, is to infiltrate the BeautiQueen party, and gossip your little heart out. I need the inside scoop on Folly, stuff I can’t learn checking financial reports, stuff you women love to dish out.”

  She pulled another thread. “I’ll need some money. You can’t go to one of these things and not buy something.”

  I took out my wallet. “Twenty-five be enough?”

  Her snort made the furniture rattle. “If I want one little tube of lipstick, yeah.” I know I looked startled. “Honey, a complete skin care system can run you a hundred and fifty to two hundred and beyond. Eyeshadow’s six bucks, regeneration cream’s thirty, not to mention moisturizers, toners, peels, gels, scrubs—”

  “Okay, okay, I get the picture.” I took out more bills. “Here’s fifty-five. Make it last. I haven’t got any more.”

  She folded the money and put it into the pocket of her immense smock. “It’s a start. I need lipstick, maybe a little eye cream, maybe some Secret Passion.”

  “Secret Passion? This is already kinkier than I imagined.”

  If I could have seen her little eyes, I’m sure they were rolling at my stupidity. “My favorite perfume, but they don’t always have it. See, what burns me up is when you’ve got a favorite fragrance, or a lipstick color you really like, and the company discontinues it.”

  “I thought pink was pink. Can’t you find the same shade in another brand?”

  “It’s not the same. You’d be surprised how many shades of pink there are. One company can’t duplicate another’s formula exactly. There’s a knockoff perfume called Secret Desire, supposed to smell the same for less. No way. I can tell the difference, and so can anyone else who’s loyal to Secret Passion.”

  “Then I hope they have it. Dare I ask how much it is?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get a small bottle.” She held the dress up to examine her handiwork. “So I get the lowdown on Folly Harper and the company, is that it?”

  “That’s it.” I dug out the address Ted had given me. “Twenty-nine Ash Grove Court at three o’clock.”

  “I’ll have Rufus drop me off.”

  “Don’t let him serenade the ladies.”

  She set the pink dress aside. “Okay, now answer me another question. What’s all this about Cam calling off the wedding? Wouldn’t have anything to do with the dishes I saw hopping around here yesterday, would it?”

  I exchanged a glance with Kary and tried to stall. “Dishes hopping around?”

  “Yeah, there was a big stack from the other night when we had all that company, and he was putting them up, only they fell, or started to fall. Next thing I know, they’re all on the counter, like he pulled them back with a string. Then they was flapping toward the cabinets, and he let ’em in like birds come home to roost.” She gave me a level stare. For once, I could see her eyes. “What the hell is he up to now?”

  I wasn’t sure Camden wanted her to know. “I have no idea.”

  She gave another elephant snort. “The kid’s telekinetic, too, right? Honest to God, if he isn’t a piece of work.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised she figured it out. “It’s a recent development.”

  “And what does Blondie think of this?”

  “She doesn’t know, and Camden doesn’t want her to know,” Kary said. “Not yet.”

  “Gee, I wonder why. Don’t worry. I won’t rat on him. So how powerful is it? I mean, can he move mountains?”

  “It’s pretty strong,” I said. “He kept Folly’s car from bashing into her the other day. But it’s driving him crazy. He’s afraid the kids will inherit it.”

  “Kids? Does Ellin strike you as the maternal type? I don’t think he has to worry about kids.”

  “I told him he can’t depend on his own future, but he’s decided the best thing to do is not marry her.”

  “Well, I think it’s the best thing, too, but anyone can see he’s nuts about her, and in her strange twisted way, she’s nuts about him. So, what’ll we do?”

  “‘We’?” I said. “What’s this ‘we’ business? You’re hired for the BeautiQueen job, that’s all. Let the two of them thrash it out.”

  ***

  Speaking of thrashing, I hadn’t heard from Charlie lately. When I called his number, he wasn’t home. I called the Tempo. He wasn’t there, either. I tried J.J.

  J.J. sighed. “Yeah, he’s here. Crashing on my couch.”

  “Did he tell you what happened Friday night?”

  “Said something about the worst evening ever and how some foreigner was stealing his girl. Didn’t make much sense. Course he was sloshed at the time.”

  I leaned back in my office chair. “He made it through Taffy’s program pretty well, but her song writing teacher was there, one of those dashing Latin types. Charlie tried to start a fight.”

  J.J. chuckled. “That ain’t the way he tells it.”

  “How hung over is he?”

  “It’ll be tomorrow before he’s coherent. You’d better tell Kary she’s got to cover the show again this afternoon.”

  Great. Way to go, Charlie. “She can handle it. Do you know if he called Taffy?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I thanked J.J. and hung up. Charlie must have been born with his own self-destruct button. Until he sobered up, called Taffy and apologized, there wasn’t much more I could do for this broken romance.

  As for Camden’s broken romance, I didn’t have to wait long for the next installment. Ellin’s silver Lexus drove up and parked.

  Camden must have sensed she was there because he met her in the island. She circled cautiously, like a plane that’s not sure the runway’s safe. “Mother said something about grandchildren. Are you still seeing that?”

  I angled my swivel chair so I could see. Camden sat down on the sofa. He took a long time before he answered. “I see three children for us. Two girls and a boy.” Another long pause. “There’s a very good chance they’ll inherit my talent.”

  I hadn’t imagined Ellin could be this quiet. She sat down beside him. I could see the sparkle of her diamond and emerald engagement ring and wondered if she knew it had once belonged to Fred’s wife, the one treasure Fred had.

  “I want you to have it,” he’d told Camden, “to give to that girl of yours. She’s ornery, but so was my Cora.”

  Camden’s ornery girl was trying to understand. “You’re not marrying me because of that?”

  “There’s something else. I’ll show you, but you have to promise me you won’t go crazy.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Keep your eye on the pear.”

  The pear-shaped glass paperweight was in its usual place on the coffee table on top of a stack of coupons. Today it did a little dance, hopped down on the carpet, and then hopped back to its place. It gave a little pear bow, and was still.

  Ellin gazed at him with wide eyes. “Oh, my God. Did you do that?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Is this what you couldn’t tell me? When did this start?”

  “A few days ago.”

  She picked up the pear as if to assure herself it had no moving parts. I could see the delighted sparkle in her eyes. “This is fantastic.”

  “Ellie—”

  Too late. She was up and rolling. “Fantastic! I can’t believe it! Do you realize what this means? This is absolutely the most wonderful example of psychic ability I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s not wonderful. It’s scary as hell.”

  “How can you say that? This is so exciting!”

  “You’re not the one who has it.”

  She went all stone-faced. “Wel
l, of course not. When did I ever get anything remotely psychic? You can bet if this were happening to me, I’d be thrilled.”

  “Thrilled to have freaky powers you don’t understand? I can control it now, but what if it gets away from me?”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “No, you’re overreacting,” he said. “You promised you wouldn’t go crazy. This is exactly what I was talking about.”

  She put both hands out, palms forward. “Okay, okay. I’ll settle down. Let’s talk this through. What does this have to do with us getting married and having our three children?”

  “Don’t you see? Our kids could have this power, or worse.”

  “They could be like me—duds.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re not a dud.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I lost interest in the argument. They could go on for quite a while like this. At least he had the guts to tell her his big secret. Rustling noises in my trash can made me turn to investigate. Two kittens were in the can, wrestling with crumpled pieces of computer paper. When I untangled them, one of them bit me.

  “Ow!” Damn sharp little teeth. “You bite me again, I’ll pull out those teeth.”

  Teeth.

  Wait a minute. With the lower half of his head gone, and his hands burned, making fingerprinting inconclusive, how did anyone know for sure that body in Clearwater belonged to George Mark McMillan? No teeth. No way to check dental records. What had the coroner used to make a positive ID?

  I called Jordan. “If there are no teeth, how does the coroner identify a badly damaged body?”

  “Fingerprints, DNA.”

  “Let’s assume the fingers are too messed up for prints, and don’t DNA results take a while?”

  “At least two weeks. There are always scars and birthmarks. A family member usually knows enough about the victim for a positive ID.”

  “So if somebody’s really mangled, but Aunt Susie says, oh, that’s Herman, then that’s it?”

  “Are you trying to identify somebody, Randall?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if this somebody is really dead.”