4th Musketelle

by Brian Bakos

17. Sidewalk Encounter

  The Musketelles exited the restaurant together and made their farewells on the sidewalk out front.

  Nichole was to be hostess at the next quarterly luncheon, it was agreed, as it was her turn in the rotation. She was toying with the idea of taking them all to Musketeers for a ‘victory tour.’ Rumor had it that Rick still worked there, and wouldn’t it be fun to see the look on his face when they all showed up?

  While this parting chitchat was taking place, Laila noticed a stooped figure shuffling along across the street. It was a bag lady, complete with a voluminous sack slung over her shoulder. People were giving her a wide berth. She halted at a public phone and checked it for any change, then moved on to rifle a trash bin.

  “See you next time, Laila,” Nichole said.

  “Say hi to Frank for us,” Candy added.

  “Sure ... I will,” Laila replied. “See you then.”

  Candy and Nichole began to cross the street together.

  “Coming, Sharese?” Nichole asked.

  “I’ll be along in a minute,” Sharese said. “Don’t leave without me!”

  “Now there’s a thought,” Candy said. “Bye, Laila.”

  “Bye.”

  Candy and Nicole walked off toward the parking lot where Candy’s car awaited them. Sharese lingered for a bit with Laila.

  “Call me if you need someone to talk to, okay?” Sharese said.

  “All right, I will,” Laila said.

  “I mean it,” Sharese said. “What are friends for?”

  Laila nodded, keeping her eyes fixed to the sidewalk.

  “You don’t have to wait three months until our next luncheon,” Sharese said. “Call me, or else I can call you. There’s no need to face everything alone.”

  Her manner was completely serious. All her third-cocktail bantering had departed. She looked toward Nichole and Candy, then back at Laila.

  “Really, Laila, don’t make me worry about you,” she said. “I don’t want to interfere but ... you know what I’m trying to say.”

  “Sure,” Laila said.

  “Are you all right to drive?”

  Laila nodded again. “I stayed within my limit.”

  “All right, then,” Sharese said, “we’ll see you.”

  She hugged Laila, then hurried across the street to the parking lot. After a final backward glance, she entered the car.

  “Still trying to look out for me, huh?” Laila murmured.

  She walked toward her own vehicle parked at the curb a little farther down the block. A parking ticket stared impudently at her from under the windshield wiper blade.

  “Damn!”

  She snatched the ticket from its perch and got into the car. As she was pulling away from the curb, a grotesque vision appeared in her mirror. The bag lady had crossed from the other side of the street and was wandering down the sidewalk toward her with a rolling, unsteady gait, as if she were going to fall down any moment. Her hunched shoulders and rounded back were the very epitome of despair.

  Laila stamped her foot on the brake pedal and lowered the passenger side window. The bag lady was pawing through a nearby trash receptacle now.

  “Hey!” Laila called.

  The bag lady looked up, startled and cowering like a dog expecting a kick. Laila could see the poor woman’s face in every creased and forlorn detail. Laila motioned to her.

  “Over here!”

  The bag lady shuffled to the passenger window.

  “Yes?” she said in a small, timorous voice.

  Laila pulled all of the cash out of her purse and thrust it toward the bag lady.

  “Take this.”

  The bag lady looked astonished and fearful.

  “Take it, please,” Laila said.

  The bag lady reached a quavering hand in the window and took the wad of bills.

  “Why ... thank you, dear.”

  The bag lady brought her hand close to her face and studied its contents unbelievingly.

  Laila sped away, badly shaken.

  $$$

  Three elderly women observed the spectacle from a table in the Gemrock bar, strategically located beside the semi bay window with its accents of stained glass. This table was their destination after their hasty retreat from the Garden Room. At first glance, they could be taken for three harmless old friends, out for some afternoon refreshment.

  But a closer look revealed that they were not as old as they seemed; their glistening eyes and spiteful expressions added years to their appearance. No wait staff person ever wanted to serve them a second time, however good the tips might be.

  “There’s more to that beautiful Laila than she cares to let on,” said Ilsa McIntyre, de facto leader of the group. “She’s scurrying about like a rat without a tail.”

  “Right,” agreed Margaret, “she’s got some guilty secret buried in her heart, I think.”

  “She looks familiar, somehow,” Ilsa said. “I must look into that.”

  Pauline sipped her rum punch and grinned. A cocktail waitress approaching the table saw the evil expression and quickly diverted away.

  The three turned their attention outside the window again. A new car pulled into the space that Laila had so hurriedly vacated and a well-dressed couple got out. The bag lady was moving off with as much speed as she could muster.

  “She’ll be off to spend her new-found fortune, I think,” Ilsa observed.

  The others nodded.

  “Maybe there’s material here for your next book, Ilsa,” Pauline said.

  “I was just thinking that myself,” Ilsa replied. “It’s been a while since I’ve published anything – wouldn’t want to get out of practice, you know.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I must be going. Nothing else is doing here.”

  “So, when shall we three meet again?” Margaret asked.

  “And where the place?” Pauline asked.

  “After I’ve done some researches, I’ll get in touch with you,” Ilsa said. “I want to get to the bottom of this drama.”

  Ilsa was quite wealthy and had her ways of finding out things. The other ladies smiled with anticipation.

  “This promises to be interesting,” Pauline said.

  “Very interesting,” Margaret said.

  The three women raised their glasses and clinked them together. “On to Eldorado!”