Coming Unclued

by Judith Jackson

  “No.”

  I opened my mouth wide so Julie could shovel in some more of the cold omelet.

  “Enough of this,” said Julie. “Feed yourself.”

  “Dessert!” I croaked.

  Julie glared down at me.

  “I’m in pain. Possibly permanently maimed.”

  Grumbling, Julie reached over to the table and grabbed the bowl of bright red Jello. As she fed me, I stared blankly at the greenish water stain decorating the ceiling.

  “We have to call the police,” I said. “We have to report Douglas and Sophie. I’d pay to see them handcuffed and marched out of here. Maybe they’ll hogtie them.

  “Good plan,” said Rose. “And the police can swing by and pick you up at the same time.”

  “They might as well,” I said, slurping down the last bite of Jello. “My work is done. Nobody much liked Mr. Potter, except for Annette, but nobody disliked him enough to bother killing him. Well, Douglas and Sophie wanted him dead but they were incompetent. This is an unsolvable crime.”

  “Just because we can’t solve it doesn’t mean it’s unsolvable,” said Julie.

  “Can you run me a bath?” I asked her. “Maybe a good long soak will help my back and then I’m going to call Walter and turn myself in.”

  “Oh Val,” said Julie.

  “You’re right — I’ll wait until tomorrow,” I said with a sniff. “We should appreciate these last moments we have together. The next time you see me I’ll be in shackles. Look after Evan. Try to talk him out of dentistry and don’t let him marry Mikel.”

  “What’s wrong with marrying that Mikel?” asked Rose. “Better than him mooning around Bambi. At least Mikel would let him have a cheeseburger now and then.”

  I rolled back over on my side in preparation for the ordeal of standing up. My back hadn’t been the same since that night on the loveseat, and this latest torment seemed to have pushed me over the edge.

  The loveseat. There was something about Heather and the loveseat. I couldn’t focus, I was in too much pain.

  I forced myself to my feet and slightly hunched over staggered over to a faded green wing chair. “How’s the bath coming?” I called to Julie.

  “Don’t be hogging the bathroom,” Rose said. “I might need it once that dinner gets moving.”

  “What do you mean mooning over Bambi?” I asked Rose, her words finally twigging through my pain-fogged brain.

  “Oh last summer, you know.”

  “No I don’t know.”

  “Last summer when he was living with you he was mooning around her like a bear after a honey pot. I told you he likes the old ones. It was a sad sight to see, let me tell you.”

  “If Evan was mooning over Heather I certainly would have noticed. And how come this is the first time you mentioned it?”

  “I’m not a gossip,” said Rose, who had commenced poking around in her mouth with a toothpick.

  Not a gossip. That’s rich.

  “That’s ridiculous.” Evan and Heather. She’s practically old enough to be his mother.

  “I know mooning when I see it,” said Rose. “God knows I’ve had enough men chasing after me to know the signs. Would you look at these toothpicks they had in the dining room? Mint. Very classy.”

  “I’m taking a bath,” I said. “A nice hot bath. Do they have baths in prison?”

  “Of course they do,” said Julie in a reassuring voice.

  “I don’t think so,” said Rose. “I think they just spray you down with disinfectant every now and then.” She had a thoughtful look on her face as she picked at one of her back molars. “For the lice,” she added helpfully.

  I stepped into the bath which Julie had kindly scented with the lodge’s vanilla bubble bath. She’d even lit a candle and dimmed the lights. Such a good friend. I would miss her so much. I wondered if I would make any new friends in prison, someone I could have a good laugh with, share the good times and the bad, gossip about the Warden and gripe about the food. I was welling up again. It was so hard to be strong. I wiggled around, trying to find a comfortable position for my back. No luck. What had I been missing out there? Evan and Heather. I couldn’t think about that. Impossible. Heather was practically as old as me and Evan was …

  My back. What was it about Heather and the loveseat? What had she said that was nagging at me? I tried to picture her that morning in the hall. Perfectly blown out hair, trim figure, beautiful skin. Skin. Don’t go to bed without washing your face. Yeah yeah. Good rule. I told her I passed out on the loveseat. She had looked appalled. What had she said? “Who slept over?” Why did she think someone slept over? I mulled this over for a while. Was she wondering if Evan was there? Hoping that he’d moved back in.

  “The phone,” I yelled. “Get me a phone.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Evan picked up on the first ring.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’ll make this fast in case they’re tracing your phone calls.”

  “Are you okay Mom? Where are you?” asked Evan, in a voice that sounded so panicked it tugged at my heart.

  “Fine. Just fine. I’m having a nice hot bath. Things couldn’t be better.” I hated for him to worry. “Evan, you need to tell me the truth. Was there ever anything going on between you and Heather?”

  “Heather?”

  “My neighbor Heather. The middle-aged woman who lives next door to me.”

  “She’s not middle aged.”

  “She’s forty-one. That’s the middle.”

  “Where are you Mom?”

  “I’m out of town following up on a few things, tying up some loose ends. One of the loose ends is a rumor that you may have been romantically involved with Heather. You care to comment on that?”

  “We were — friendly,” said Evan. “Mom, you need to turn yourself in. Now. Please. I’m begging you. Everything is really heating up.”

  “How friendly?”

  “Very.”

  “Evan! How could you? She’s almost as old as me.”

  “Well she doesn’t seem it — I mean, you know, because she’s not a mother she doesn’t seem matronly. Not matronly, maternal.”

  I was in shock. Heather, my friend, was a pervert. The bath water felt lukewarm. And there was a very annoying drip. I scrunched down a little and stuck my big toe in the faucet. Okay. No drip. Now I needed a towel.

  “Towel please,” I called. Why not act like a spoiled brat?

  “Mom, are you still there?”

  “I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow,” I said. “But just so you know, I am very disappointed in this whole Heather thing.” Disappointed and disgusted. “When did it end?”

  “Here,” said Julie, putting a towel on the side of the bathtub. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Evan.”

  “Give him my love.”

  “Julie sends her love.”

  “I knew Julie was involved,” said Evan.

  “Of course she’s involved. I can trust her. She’s not running around having sex with middle- aged women. It is over right? Tell me it’s over.”

  “Evan had a fling, an affair with Heather,” I said to Julie.

  “Of course it’s over,” said Evan. “I’m with Mikel. I love Mikel. The thing with Heather was just a … blip.”

  “Well that’s a hell of a blip, but okay. Look — I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry about me. Everything’s fine.”

  “Everything is not fine Mom.”

  He wasn’t kidding. I couldn’t get my toe out of the faucet.

  “I’m turning myself in tomorrow. Don’t worry. This is all going to work out. Love you. And hello to Mikel.” What the hell, compared to Heather, Mikel was a prize, a mother’s dream. Why did Evan have such terrible taste in girlfriends? Was it something I’d done?

  I tossed the phone on the floor and struggled with my toe. “I’m stuck,” I said to Julie.

  “Oh for cripes sake,” said Julie. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It was dripping. You know how I feel a
bout drips.”

  “Well pull. Pull hard.”

  “I have tried that,” I said, through gritted teeth. “And the water is getting cold.”

  “I’m going to push down on your leg,” said Julie. “Why do you do things like this? Have you reached the point where you can’t even take a bath without getting in trouble?”

  Once again, Julie the judgmental, Julie the doesn’t know what it is to make a little mistake. She grabbed my foot and pushed down on it. Nothing. Nothing except intense pain.

  “Oww!” I moaned.

  “Shut up,” said Julie, in her cold, unfeeling, British headmistress voice. “This is your own fault.”

  “Oh that’s right,” I said. “Everything’s my fault. Blame me for everything.”

  Julie sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m going to put all my weight on your foot,” she said.

  “Well that should do it,” I said. I was feeling mean, though it was wasted on Nurse Ratchet who didn’t appear to be listening to me. Julie leaned over my leg, grabbed my ankle and pushed down.

  “Stop!” I screamed. “You’re going to pull my toe off. What’s wrong with you?”

  Julie just glared at me and stormed out of the room, leaving me stuck and freezing. I decided to ignore the situation, to be calm, Zen. I shut my eyes and pictured myself sitting on a mountaintop in India in the Lotus position. “Ommm,” I hummed. It was working. I felt calmer. “Ommmmm.”

  “Here.” My meditation was disturbed by Julie returning with a bottle. “Rose had some mineral oil in her purse. Don’t ask. Squirt some around your toe.”

  I sat up as best I could and gave my toe a good squirt.

  “Now try,” said Julie.

  And like a cork in a wine bottle, out popped my swollen big toe.

  “Jesus,” said Julie, storming out of the room.

  I stepped gingerly onto the bathmat, wrapping a bath towel around me.

  “Where’s the bathrobe?” I called. “Doesn’t this place provide bathrobes?”

  Julie and Rose had already claimed the bathrobes. They had also decided that they would share the queen sized bed and I would get the couch. Fine. Whatever. No one could ever call me a complainer. “This is where it all began,” I said, as I curled up, wearing my towel. “On a couch. I woke up that morning thinking it was just another Sunday, maybe I’d have some coffee, read the paper, do some shopping, and bam my life was ruined. I’d already bought the Christmas turkey. Organic free range. It wasn’t cheap.”

  “I’ll bet they put on a fine meal at the jail,” said Rose. “And the Salvation Army band will probably play. It’ll be nice.”

  I tried to hold back my tears. The Salvation Army Band playing while I ate my Christmas gruel. I didn’t have a Kleenex. I sniffed and then quickly wiped my nose on the blanket. It smelled funny. Musty. Something I had better get accustomed to. I let my mind wander back over the few days while I listened to the thump of the washing machines next door.

  “We did okay,” I reflected. “We figured out some things. Once we tell the police what Douglas and Mr. Potter were up to they might be able to get some money back for those people.”

  “I’ll bet they will,” replied Julie. “We were good at this. And if it wasn’t for the whole you might be incarcerated for the rest of your life thing I would have almost enjoyed it.”

  “And once people hear what a scum the guy was they won’t be quite so angry about him getting stabbed to death,” said Rose. “That should help your case. Knock a few years off the sentence. Night girls. Don’t mind my snoring.”

  A few hours later I was wide awake, curled up on the lumpy couch, buffeted by the sound of rattling pipes and dueling snoring coming from the bed. We would drive home tomorrow and I would call Walter and have him take me in. I would throw myself on the mercy of the justice system and hope that even with all the evidence pointing to me, Walter could work his magic. He’d managed it for plenty of people who really were guilty. Why not me?

  There was quite a bit of heavy snow falling as we set out the next morning, cardboard cups of coffee from the dining room in hand. “We’ll grab something to eat on the road,” said Julie in a no nonsense voice. “I want to get going in case the snow gets worse.”

  So we zipped along, Christmas carols on the radio, enjoying the beautiful scenery and sipping our coffee. I was going to be brave about this. No more whining, no more “Why me?” I’d given it my best shot, I’d failed, and now I would head home to accept responsibility. Responsibility for what? I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Isn’t this fun?” said Rose. “Just us girls out for a road trip. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much.”

  I gave a little sniff to remind her of exactly why we were on this road trip.

  “Here you go,” said Rose, handing me a balled up Kleenex that looked like it had spent days stuffed up her sleeve. “Give it a good blow.”

  “This snow is really sticky and the car is starting to skid,” said Julie, as she slowed the car. “It’s Andrew’s job to put the snow tires on. Is that too much to ask that he does that one little thing? I do everything else to keep the house running.”

  “Men,” said Rose. “They’re like puppies. Cute at first but you get tired of picking up their crap.”

  I’d miss Rose. “Will you visit me in prison?” I called back to her.

  “Oh sure honey. My first husband spent a bit of time in the big house and I never missed a Sunday visit.”

  “Shit!” shrieked Julie, as the car suddenly began to fishtail back and forth. “Hold on! Brace yourselves.”

  I grabbed the dashboard and gave a quick look back at Rose, who was bent over in the crash position. I could feel the car swerving across the road.

  “Don’t slam the brakes!” I screamed. “We’ll spin out.”

  “I’m trying,” snapped Julie as she slammed on the brakes. We did a rapid 360 and slowly slid down an embankment into the ditch. We were all silent for a moment as the car came to a stop.

  “Is everyone all right?” called Julie. “Rose are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” said Rose. “Gave me a bit of a start but I didn’t even spill my coffee.”

  “You okay?” Julie asked me.

  “Shaken but not stirred,” I said. I was determined to be a good sport about this, even though Julie’s inept driving had put all of our lives in danger.

  “Okay. Good. We’re all good then,” she said, relaxing a little back into her seat. “We need to call somebody. CAA. And we’d better get out of the car. It’s probably not safe down here. Another car might land on us.”

  “Not unless some other idiot slams on his brakes and spins out,” I said. “Most people know better.” Well I’d tried to be a good sport, but honestly, now here we were stuck in a ditch in the middle of a snow storm.

  We all clambered out of the car and between Julie and me we managed to hoist Rose up to the side of the road.

  “Brisk isn’t it?” remarked Rose. “Julie you might want to get on that cell phone of yours and call for a tow truck. Tell them you have your ninety-year-old mother with you. That’ll get them hustling.”

  “You don’t look anywhere near ninety,” I told her.

  “Thank you honey, but I don’t think they’ll check my ID.”

  Rose and I huddled together on the side of the road, shivering in the driving snow while Julie paced up and down trying to explain where we were.

  “They’re sending a tow truck,” she finally reported back to us. “They’re putting a rush on it because we have a very sick, very old woman with us. Maybe you should get back in the car Rose. I’ll run the engine for a while to warm you up.”

  “Oh I don’t think so. I’d feel like a rat in a trap down there.”

  “It could be a while,” said Julie.

  “Well look on the bright side,” said Rose. “Kind of a delay of execution for you Val.”

  There’s always a bright side if you look hard enough.

  So
we stomped around on the side of the road, trying to keep warm and twenty minutes later, after getting a tow from a friendly young man in a Hooters baseball cap, we were back on the road, no worse for the wear.

  “You can drop me at my building, kind of full circle and all,” I told Julie. “I’ll call Walter from Rose’s and do whatever he tells me to do.”

  “You sure?” she asked. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  “No — I’ll call you as soon as I know anything. And thanks for everything Julie. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

  “I’d do it all again,” said Julie. She sounded a little misty. “Here,” she said. “Take my phone, just in case you need it.”

  We pulled up in front of the condo. Annie and Bill were coming out, hand in hand, looking very happy. Well who was I to judge? There must be something to him I couldn’t see. Something hidden deep within.

  Rose hoisted herself out of the car, gave Julie a merry goodbye and we headed into the building. The security door was finally working again.

  “My tree,” said Rose as we entered the lobby. “Where the heck’s my tree?”

  I’d thought the lobby looked nicer than last time I was here. Rose’s Christmas tree was gone.

  “It’s Bambi,” said Rose. “I know it. She snuck down here in the dead of night and stole my tree. Isn’t that just like her? Sneaky … Just let me catch my breath and I’m going to go up there and give her what for. She’ll be sorry she messed with Rose Canning.”

  “I’ll go up,” I told Rose. “You go to your place and get comfortable. I want to talk to Heather anyway. I’ll find out if she had anything to do with your tree and then I’ll come back down and call Walter. Okay?”

  Rose pondered this plan for a moment and then nodded her head in assent. “Don’t take any guff from her. Check all the closets. She’s hiding it somewhere.”

  Right. Heather almost certainly didn’t have Rose’s ratty old tree stuffed in a closet. She’d probably dragged it to the nearest dumpster. Good riddance to the tree, but I wanted to confront Heather on a different matter. Evan. How could she? What kind of friend would do something like that? I thought I knew her.

  My legs were aching and a little wobbly by the time I reached the fourth floor. Hard to believe that only a few days ago I had made that climb a few times a day. I knocked sharply on Heather’s door. I was angry. Really angry. She’d lied to me. Deceived me. I knocked again. And she wasn’t home, the cradle robbing bitch.