Pink Flamingoed

by Steve Demaree

  “Hi, Mr. Conklin. Would you like your walk shoveled?”

  “Do you do it for free?” Harry asked.

  “No, Harry, he’s doing it to make money. Let him shovel the walk,” Ethel said, as she sat in the living room reading.

  “How much do you charge, Kenny? We don’t have much money.”

  “My dad says I’m to charge whatever the people are willing to pay,” Kenny said.

  “Wise man, your father. Okay, you can do it. You’re going to do the driveway, too, aren’t you?”

  Kenny had not thought about shoveling driveways, but taken off guard, he said, “Uh, yes sir.”

  Kenny started to shovel the Conklin’s walk and driveway. The snow was so heavy it took Kenny an hour to finish. Not only did it give him a chance to develop character and muscles, but it gave him time to think of an easier way to make money. Kenny finished and headed to collect his money.

  “Here’s two dollars for you, Kenny.”

  Kenny remembered what his dad said about the family name and tried his best to appear pleased to receive the skinflint’s two dollars. He thanked Mr. Conklin and left. As Kenny headed to the next house, he noticed Mrs. Conklin waving frantically from the side door. She motioned for Kenny to come to her.

  “How much did he pay you, Kenny?”

  “Two dollars, Mrs. Conklin.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Here’s five more. This’ll be our secret. Mr. Conklin doesn’t need to know a thing about this.”

  Kenny swore a vow of silence and hurried to Melanie’s house. After all, his house could wait and there was no way he was going to the wicked witch’s house.

  Late that afternoon Kenny dragged the snow shovel back into the garage and trudged into the house.

  “Oh, hi, Son,” his dad said. “How did you do today?”

  “I made $37.50 and I’m going to bed.”

  “But Mom will have dinner ready soon.”

  “I’ll eat mine tomorrow afternoon when I get up.”

  “But Son, it’s supposed to snow again tonight. Look at all the money you can earn tomorrow. You could be rich before the week is over.”

  “I could be dead before the week is over. Tell Mallory she can have all my customers.”

  +++

  Harry checked his e-mail every day hoping he had received another message from Rachel. He enjoyed receiving e-mail so much that he got more excited when he received an e-mail from his daughter than he did when she phoned. Ethel, on the other hand, looked forward to hearing her daughter’s voice, and, true to her word, Rachel stayed in touch with her parents more often.

  One morning, Harry became excited, because not only did he hear from Rachel, but he got an e-mail from Scott, otherwise known as benprechin@mailbox.com.

  Harry read the message and then looked at all of the other e-mail addresses at the top. He figured all of them must be someone else in the church, but since Harry was the first one to sign the paper, he had no idea what anyone else’s e-mail address was except for Frank and Cora.

  Harry looked over the list. He knew that redbuick @mailbox.com had to be Barney and he thought that whodunitbf@kwikmail.com was probably Brad, but Harry was not sure of any of the others.

  Then Harry got an idea. If the pastor can e-mail everyone, why can’t I? Harry thought, so he fired off a message to each of the people on the list. Do you go to The Church on Aylesford Place?” the e-mail read. “If so, I’m Harry. Who are you?

  Harry took an hour break to watch The Price Is Right, where he got an idea. He googled “game shows.” He learned there was an entire TV channel devoted to game shows, but Harry would never see it unless Rachel decided to give him cable TV for his birthday. Harry had already spent enough money to watch TV. He bought a TV big enough for a man his age to see it, and he had to pay for the electricity it took for him to watch three game shows a day. That was enough money to spend. A channel devoted to game shows would have to wait. Harry rationalized his loss. He knew the channel would not have the game shows he grew up watching. Or would it?

  Harry spent all afternoon on the Internet. He reminisced as each website reintroduced game shows and panelists of his younger days. Harry became so engrossed in reliving the game shows of his youth that he missed his nap that afternoon. He did not realize what he had done until Ethel called him to dinner. Harry paid for his oversight. He fell asleep halfway through Wheel of Fortune.

  The Ice Storm

  The Christmas holidays were a time of relaxation for Brad, but once the holidays were over, it was time for him to get back to work. It had been only two months since his latest book had come out, but Brad had heard from people who had read it and told him how much they enjoyed this one and how eager they were to read the next one. He had planned to begin writing his next book by early January, and since early January had arrived, it was time to get to work.

  Brad looked out his window and watched as the wind blew the snow, thankful that he did not have to leave his house to go to work. But then on Aylesford Place, very few people had to leave their homes each day.

  Once January arrived, Brad’s day consisted of getting up early, fixing himself a bowl of oatmeal and some orange juice, enjoying it, and then pouring himself a cup of coffee, which he took with him to the computer. Brad needed silence to create. He never answered the phone. He refrained from answering his doorbell. He was a disciplined writer. That’s why he was able to crank out a new book by the time his publisher wanted it. Each Monday through Friday, Brad worked until he needed a break and then took a shower and got dressed. Then, he started back to work and continued to work on his book until lunchtime. For Brad, lunchtime varied. He determined his lunchtime by when he felt it was time to put his book away until the next day. Sometimes Brad ate at noon. Other times, it was close to three o’clock when he turned away from his computer for the last time.

  +++

  Amy never disturbed Brad in the middle of his writing. She let him call her or pop over and ring her doorbell whenever he was ready to face the world, or at least the one person in the world he could not wait to see each day. January was one of Brad’s busiest times of the year, but winter was Amy’s slow season. Amy was not one to sit around on her hands. Cabin fever hit her much sooner than anyone else on the street. When she knew she just had to get out of the house at least for a few minutes, she crossed the street to check on Allison. The only time they had seen each other recently was at church. Amy put on her boots, bundled up to keep out the cold, and crunched through the snow to see her best friend. Well, her best female friend near her age.

  “Hello stranger. Long time no see,” Allison said, as she opened her door with a smile.

  Amy bent over and hugged her friend. “Sorry I haven’t stopped by lately. I’ve been so busy with the holidays and all.”

  “Yeah, and all’s kind of cute, huh? You like him a lot, don’t you, Amy?”

  “You sound just like Cora.”

  “You’re avoiding my question,” Allison replied in a smiling, melodious way.

  “Yes, Allison. I like him a lot.”

  “He seems like he’ll be good for you.”

  “I hope so. So, how are you doing?”

  “Pretty good. I had a good Christmas. I went to see my mom and dad for a few days and got to see my brother and his wife, too.”

  “Everyone okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does that include Allison?”

  “Well, I haven’t found a Mr. Wonderful yet, if that’s what you mean, but business is really good and I’m happy. By the way, would you like some hot chocolate. I was just going to fix myself some.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Be right back,” Allison said, already swiveling her chair.

  Amy and Allison sat and visited for an hour or so, each glad to have a friend so near by. After a good visit, Amy said, “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, Amy. Please do it again soon. I miss
our little talks.”

  “I’ll have to do a better job, Alli. Really, it isn’t like I’ve spent all of my time with Brad. You know how much I hibernate in the winter, except when I go out to shoot some photographs.”

  “Well, just remember to shoot over this way sometime. Besides, I know the only reason you hibernate is because you don’t like to drive in this kind of weather unless you have to, even though you have an SUV.”

  “True, and I promise to come over more often. Now, give me a hug.”

  +++

  Ethel handed Harry a long “to do” list on the day he sent out an e-mail to everyone Scott had e-mailed. Not only did it cost him his chance to explore the Internet, but his e-mail time. He barely had time to watch The Price Is Right. He did not have a chance to check his e-mail again until the next morning. When Harry checked it, he was elated to see that he had ten new messages.

  Harry forgot that he sent the message to Frank and Cora, and Cora took advantage of the opportunity to reply to Harry’s e-mail.

  “I’m glad you e-mailed us. Until we got your e-mail, both of us figured that harryc@mailbox.com was probably Barney.

  We’re glad that you’re enjoying your computer, Harry. I’m sure that Ethel can use the peace and quiet. By the way, did all of the ten ways you could tell if you’re getting old apply to you? Bye for now, Cora.”

  Harry continued to read his messages. He received messages from Barney, Bertha, Scott, Jill, Kenny, Brad, and Amy in addition to Rachel. Then he got to his last message. “What church on Aylesford Place?” was all it said, and it was signed Moses.

  “Who’s Moses@mailbox.com?” Harry wondered. He made a note of everyone he had heard from and then tried to think of who else attended the church he and Ethel attended. “It must be someone playing a trick on me,” Harry thought. “Who could it be?” This so occupied his mind that he did not search game show websites until after lunch.

  +++

  Brad had just gotten up one morning when the phone rang. He rushed over to pick it up. “Hello.”

  “Have you looked outside this morning?”

  “I sure have. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “I’ll say. Sorry to bother you so early, but I wanted to catch you before you started writing. Would you be interested in taking a little break?”

  “What’d you have in mind?” Brad asked.

  “Well, we don’t get a lot of ice storms around here, and to me an ice storm is an opportunity. I was thinking about going out and taking some photographs and wanted to know if you’d like to go along.”

  “Sounds like fun. I could go for a little while. Where do you plan to go?”

  “Well, I was going to walk down to the park and then I might check out some of the other streets in the neighborhood.”

  “Can you give me fifteen minutes to get ready? I’d like to jump in the shower first.”

  “Do you need longer?”

  “No, fifteen minutes will be enough.”

  “Okay, just come over when you get ready,” Amy said.

  Brad blow-dried his hair, got dressed, and hurried to Amy’s. Amy was watching for him and stepped out carrying a couple of bags and a tripod.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” Brad said, grappling for Amy’s equipment with one hand while he held on to the railing with the other. Brad grabbed some of Amy’s equipment and they were off, inching along on what was normally a quick walk.

  “So, how’s the new book coming?”

  “I’m not doing too much writing yet. I’m doing everything I need to do to get ready to write.”

  “And what does that consist of?”

  “Each writer is different, but with whodunits I begin by deciding on a setting and a plot, and then I make a list of characters and begin to flesh them out. Then I outline my book one scene at a time.”

  “So, are you willing to reveal where this one takes place and how the victim dies?”

  “Some of that, but I’m always willing to change as I go along if I feel changes need to be made. As it now stands, this one takes place at a dinner party at a remote country manor where all of the guests spend the night and the victim dies at the dinner party with all of the suspects gathered around him.”

  “Sounds like fun. Oh, by the way, I read the book you gave me for Christmas and I loved it.”

  “Well, it’s good to know that I have a new fan.”

  “Speaking of fans, did you know that Nancy Armbruster was the one who bought the last two copies of your books at The Printed Page? Naturally, she bought them for Jill who has already read both of them.”

  “Yeah, I know. Jill e-mailed me and told me how much she loved them.”

  “Oh, she did, did she? Does this mean that Melanie is not my only competition?”

  “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  Halfway down the street, Brad’s feet flew out from under him. Amy grabbed for the camera equipment as Brad was going down. Brad hit the icy sidewalk and let out an “ugh.”

  “Are you all right?” Amy asked.

  “Maybe, but no thanks to you. At least I know where I stand in relation to your camera equipment.”

  “A good man is easier to replace than camera equipment,” Amy answered, as she grinned from ear to ear.

  “Evidently,” Brad replied.

  Amy reached out and helped Brad to his feet, but their banter continued until they came to the park.

  Amy sat down her equipment, took in the landscape. “Isn’t this just beautiful, Brad?”

  “And wonderful and incredible, too.”

  “I’m talking about the ice storm.”

  “Me, too. You haven’t cornered the market on beautiful, incredible, and wonderful, you know.”

  Amy had no idea how to make an ice ball, so she refrained from throwing anything at her next-door neighbor. Besides, it might hurt. Brad eased up behind Amy and put his arms around her waist while they took in their wonderland of ice. Ice clung to each branch, to the porch of each house, and sprung up from the ground like newborn stalagmites. “Yeah, it’s beautiful, but it doesn’t smell as good as your hair.”

  Amy turned and gave Brad a hug.

  “Now, sit down and let me get some work done.”

  Brad scraped the ice off a nearby swing, then sat on it, and watched Amy go to work. Amy spent almost a half an hour looking through the camera lens to see what she thought would make a good photograph.

  “Brad, why don’t you lie down in the grass and make an ice angel?”

  “Why don’t you lie down in the grass and make an ice angel?” Brad countered.

  “Because, I’m the photographer. That’s why.”

  “I can take the picture. All I have to do is push down on the button. It can’t be too hard.”

  “So, I guess I’ll go home and write a novel, since all I have to do is push down on some computer keys.”

  “Okay, you win. Where do you want me to lie down?”

  Brad accommodated Amy, then went back to his swing. He tuned out the clicks of Amy’s cameras and drifted off in his own little world. And what a world it was. Brad could remember only twice when he seemed to leave the real world and headed to a world of a different sort. The first time was when he visited Williamsburg, Virginia as a child. It was as if he stepped back in time, left the real world, and drifted back to feel what it was like for the founders of this country. The other time was when he went to Niagara Falls and rode the Maid of the Mist, which made him feel that he was close enough to the falls that at any moment the boat would begin to climb the falls. Brad was sure there were other places that would give him the same feeling. He had yet to see the Grand Canyon. He had never visited the Grand Tetons or Yellowstone to wander through country that is rapidly disappearing and among animals that he would never find in New York City. Brad breathed in the cool winter air, twisted in the swing and took in the panoramic view. He felt as if Jules Verne had taken him on a Journey to the Center of the Earth.

  Amy shot photographs until
she felt she had all the shots she needed. She could not remember a more beautiful sight. Everything was covered with ice; trees, grass, sidewalks, houses, playground equipment, cars. As long as no one had to go anywhere, as long as the power stayed on, it was a sight to behold. Amy didn’t want it to end, but end it would. At least she would have photographs to jiggle her memory. At least she could make duplicate copies so others could enjoy it as well.

  “Okay, I guess we can go now,” Amy said as she started to put her things away. Amy smiled and repeated her words. Brad too was lost in the beauty of the moment. It was nice to love a man who took time to enjoy the moments God only sends on occasion.

  Finally Brad realized that Amy was talking to him and that she had finished taking pictures.

  “Amy, why do you use two cameras? Is it so that you don’t have to change lenses?”

  “With zoom lenses it doesn’t matter. I can zoom in and out. But sometimes I want to shoot in black-and-white and other times I want to shoot in color.”

  “You mean people still take black-and-white photographs?”

  “Some of my clients don’t want anything except black-and-white.”

  “So, do you do your own printing?”

  “I do.”

  As Brad and Amy walked home, he thought back to a few weeks before, when Amy gave him a guided tour of the street.

  “I know most people on the street are retired, but what did they do when they worked?”

  “Well, Barney owned a jewelry store. He just sold it and retired a couple of years ago. Oh, guess what kind of work Harry did.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What kind of Sherlock Holmes are you anyway? As tight as Harry is with his money, you should’ve guessed that he’s retired from the IRS.”

  “Is he really?”

  “Scouts honor,” Amy replied, as Brad began to chuckle.

  “So that’s the reason Harry always gets excited every time someone wins big on one of the game shows. Harry wants to see them pay lots of taxes. So, what about Wicked Witch Peabody? What did she do before she started killing people?”