Death on Planet Pizza

by Madeline Lepore Martin

  "In what way?"

  "Danged if I know. Tucker's been... Oh, hell, I don't know. I guess he's just been havin' a real hard time with his friends' deaths. I mean, he's been around death before, poor thing, but, well, this here's been different. He keeps, oh, heck, what's that word you like usin'? You know, the one where you keep thinkin' 'bout one thing all the time?"

  "Obsessing?"

  "That's it. He’s obsessin’."

  "Obsessing about what?"

  "Chloe dyin' I reckon. You know how he's always writin' them stories."

  "Yeah, they're great."

  "He makes 'em seem so real. Ya know? Well, he's been writin' somethin' fierce lately. And this latest one is...kinda hard to swalla, I guess you'd say." CC's naturally booming voice became whisper quiet. "He keeps sayin' she was murdered."

  "Murdered?" Spenser up-righted herself, taking her legs off the basket and facing her friend squarely.

  CC raised her hand and laughed, "By pirates.”

  Spenser relaxed. "Oh, well, heck yeah. Pirates are murderous. Blackbeard, Captain Kidd, Henry Morgan." She scrunched up her face. "Jack Sparrow not so much."

  CC was silent. She shook her head and sighed. "The death of his friend is botherin' him somethin' fierce. Maybe ‘cause Gina Mae is takin’ it real hard. I don’t know. It's the most I seen him worry since the accident. And it ain't like him to put pen to paper with scenes of murder and mayhem, you know? I'm just wonderin' if I should talk to Kay about it."

  "If you're this concerned, absolutely.” Spenser paused briefly. “So, before Chloe, Pam died." CC nodded. "Were there others recently?"

  "Well, now, let me think. Yeah, as I recall, a nice young man named Jeremy passed away 'bout three months ago. Oh, and then an elderly woman, can't remember her name, 'bout five months on."

  "Seems like a lot," said Spenser.

  "Lordy, now I got you worryin' 'bout this. You just never mind me, Spenser." CC wheeled herself back to her desk. "I'm just obsessin’." She smiled at the use of her new word. "Mother's prerogative. Hell, it's probably just Tucker needs to get this sadness out of his system and this here scary story is his way of copin'."

  Moran came bouncing into the lobby. "Spenser, you tell these testa dura that this color is the color they want and it's the color I'm givin’ ‘em. And if they don't like it they can get some crayons and fix it themselves." The little man turned and huffed back into the print shop.

  CC and Spenser smiled at each other. "Spense, maybe you can just tell them to call me if they have any questions."

  "I believe I will." Spenser grabbed the satchels and headed toward the door.

  "And, Spenser..." CC added, not quite as matter of factly as she had intended, "Never you mind about what I was goin' on about. I'm sure it's nothin'. Just Tucker's way of sayin' he misses his friend is all."

  "Probably is. Catch you later." Spenser exited the cool confines of Markstone and, shielding her face from the fourth straight day of searing sun, walked briskly to the Shadow and dialed Ice Station Zebra on her air conditioner.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Thursday - morning

  Valley Boulevard was packed with single occupant vehicles spewing out toxins that would add a brownish hew to the horizon by ten am. Spenser fidgeted with the radio then the rear view mirror then the side mirror. She was surprised just how much she'd been affected by what CC had said. Why had Tucker decided that the only way he could justify his friends' deaths was by convincing himself that they had been murdered? What sadness compelled him to take solace in an act of violence?

  She understood Tucker's need to make sense of senseless things. She empathized with his trying to twist the facts into a plausible explanation. Granted, murdering his friends was extreme, but she thought she knew the why of it. He was taking charge of what happened. He was fitting what he knew into a scenario that he could control. Albeit morbidly.

  Spenser noticed just in time the fast approaching rear end of a semi stopped at a railroad crossing. "Shit." She hoped her tires weren't smoking as she stopped inches from the lift gate. She watched as the slow-moving boxcars passed hypnotically from left to right.

  Southern Pacific, Union Pacific, Burlington, Chessie, Atchison Topeka & Santa Fe. Their names held images of faraway places and worldly adventures. It reminded her of all the dreams she'd dreamed when she was too young to know the difference. It reminded her just how much she wished she'd taken the path to those places and adventures. It also reminded her of what had crushed those childhood dreams so absolutely. It reminded her of Asa.

  "You are such a wimp, Nell."

  "Yeah, well, you're a jerk, Asa."

  They loved each other, these two very different brother and sister, there was no question of that. But sometimes they didn't much like each other. Asa was the alpha dog. Always in charge, always right. Always making decisions for them both. Spenser was, much to the consternation of Asa, independent. Willing to take orders when it suited her, but more content to keep her own counsel. Where he was outgoing, personable and charming, she was shy, reticent, and awkward. She allowed her baby brother to drag her from sandlot baseball games to muddy football matches, but always reserved the right to decline an offer if there was a favorite television program on.

  This was one of those times. The "Avengers" would be coming on in a couple of hours. And besides, Mom had told them to stay put until she got back from visiting Mrs Petrak next door.

  "You don't even want to know?"

  "No, Chickie, I don't even want to know." Spenser smiled a vicious smile. Asa hated to be called Chickie, which is why she did it. It was, of course, a derogatory term. Coined from the one and only time Spenser had bested her brother. It was she and not Asa who had climbed old Mrs Petrak's gigantic oak. She'd made it three quarters to the top, taunting Asa as a chicken the whole time. Thus, the epithet.

  "Listen, Meatball..." Two could play at this game. "If you don't come I'll tell Wade Rickman that you love him and write about him in your diary."

  Now that was below the belt. "I do not. God, you are such a creep."

  "Ah, c'mon, Nell. You know you want to go. Butchie says there's like rail spikes all over the place. And they let you take them." Spenser was weakening, he could see it. She loved trains. She collected n-scale trains. There was no way she could resist not having a steel rail spike.

  "Just over to Hellmann and back. Right?"

  "Right."

  "Why do you always have to have your own way?"

  "Because my way is the only way." Asa smiled his most brilliant smile, grabbed his jacket, his Orioles cap, and headed for the door.

  Spenser tagged along, reluctantly. Well, maybe not all that reluctantly. Though she hated to admit it, Asa had a pretty good idea. This time. She'd really like to have a spike. And the Hellmann Avenue crossing was only a couple of blocks away. They'd be back well before Mom returned. She watched as Asa straddled his new three speed bike. He rooster tailed in front of her, laughing so hard he swallowed his gum.

  "Knock it off, Chickie."

  Asa didn't. He took his big sister's order as a challenge, heading for the block wall next to their driveway at break neck speed. Then, just as he was about to crash, he swerved taking out a marigold and an equally unlucky pansy.

  "Asa, Mom is going to kill you." Another challenge. Asa began howling, biking around Spenser in ever decreasing circles. "Damn it, Asa."

  "Cuss word. Cuss word. I'm telling Mom." Asa pulled a wheelie and headed for the street.

  Spenser grabbed her own bicycle and started pedaling fast to catch up to her little brother. Asa was zigzagging, challenging Spenser to do better than he. Which she never would be able to. And he knew it.

  They reached Hellmann and bounded over the railroad crossing to the wooded side, the side that was screened from the road and the few houses that lined the tracks. Asa dumped his bike unceremoniously on the gravel path and started balancing on the iron rails.

  “Get off, Asa.”


  “Make me.”

  Spenser gave up. If her brother wanted to take his life in his hands, she would let him. And then squeal to their mother. She started walking along the tracks, eyes glued to the ground, hoping she would find the elusive iron spike. She was paying little attention to Asa. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab his bike, mount it, and proceed to vault off the embankment, trying to get some air as he spanned the short gap between the rails.

  Then she heard it, the low rumble that heralded a train. “Asa, train’s coming.”

  Asa shot into the air, landing hard on the other side of the tracks. “Dang, Nell, did you see that? All the way across. Yeehaa!”

  Spenser heard the first whistle, then the second. The train was crossing Powell Street, only a half mile away. They wouldn’t be able to see the engine until it was right on top of them because of the trees and the curve of the rails. She watched as Asa came back around ready for another flyover.

  “Asa, come on. Knock it off.”

  But Asa wasn’t listening. He raced away from the track then turned and headed straight for the embankment. “Hey, Nell, watch this.”

  “No, Asa, don’t. The train’s too close.” Asa ignored his sister. “Damn it, Asa, don’t.”

  And then, Spenser’s world changed forever. She watched Asa gain air. She saw him lift the handle bars. She watched as the front tire passed high over the first rail. She waited for the back tire to do the same. But the tire hit the loose gravel next to the rail, imbedded itself in the fill and suddenly lost momentum. The bike pitched forward and down. Asa came down hard, sprawling onto the loose ballast. He was dazed and hurt. Spenser turned to see the train screaming around the corner. She looked at Asa and saw the horror on his face, realizing there was nothing she could do.

  The train whistle was deafening, drowning out Spenser’s scream and Asa’s cry for help.

  Spenser saw the last boxcar scrape slowly passed the intersection. She watched the restraining arms of the rail guard rise wobbling into the air. She sighed, placed the Shadow in gear, headed for her next delivery, and begged the day to go by fast.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Thursday - late afternoon

  Brianne Saunders rested lightly against the window frame in her office. She fidgeted absently with the locket around her neck. It was a cameo given to her by her mother on the day she wed John Saunders. It held miniature photos of her and John. She tried to recall the day that the photo was taken, but the memory was fading as if a dream barely remembered. What was happening to her? What was happening to all the promises she’d made to John?

  She’d accepted the position at the Sunflower with a renewed enthusiasm for her role as facilitator to the physically and mentally challenged. John’s death had galvanized her into wanting to make a difference. And her first few months here had been exhilarating. She was making a difference both in the quality of life for the residents and in making their deaths less anguished. But now, something was terribly wrong.

  Brianne watched as a soft breeze caught a branch of the wisteria. The delicate purple blossoms waved at the sky in salutation. It was so very beautiful here. So why were things turning so ugly? She’d just gotten off the line with Chloe Newcomb’s mother. Mrs Newcomb was extremely upset and with good reason. A locket was missing from Chloe’s possessions. A locket given to Chloe by her grandmother. A valuable locket.

  Brianne had assured Mrs Newcomb that it was probably just mislaid. She assured the grieving mother that her staff would search the entire facility. She guaranteed that the locket would be found and returned. But she knew better. The locket wasn’t the first bit of jewelry to go missing. Brianne had been contacted by other relatives inquiring of missing possessions. Pam Vacarro’s emerald bracelet was still unrecovered.

  This was unacceptable. All her hard work would be voided if a scandal hit the Sunflower. She had to prevent that at all cost. It was imperative that she put a stop to it. Out of the corner of her eye, Brianne watched as Ival Overoye crept toward his cottage. Yes, she must put a stop to it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Thursday - early evening

  Spenser shut off the Shadow and listened to the ambient sounds of early evening at Laguna Bonita. The jays and mockingbirds were scratching the air with their disapproval of the many crows invading their turf. Children's giggles and screams bounced from one hillock to another. She walked from the car to her very warm trailer, listening to the crunch of the gravel and wishing she'd had enough money to buy a window air conditioner. She unlocked the door, breathed in fresh air greedily, and stepped into the sauna she called home. Spenser sneaked a peek at the shower curtained window and made a cursory inventory of her eclectic possessions. Then she knelt down in front of her bed and inspected the hidey-hole, pleased to see her N-scale trains exactly where she’d left them. All present and accounted for.

  The message light on her answering machine was blinking steadily. Spenser threw the car keys on the Formica countertop and plopped onto her love seat. She reached over to the stereo and cranked up ‘Appalachian Spring’ listening with joy to the beautifully simple ‘Shaker Song’. She pressed the message button on the machine and heard her insurance agent’s gruff voice. “Ms Isaacs, this is Warren Krugman. I’ve spoken to Mr Smith’s agent, Mr Dershau, and your claim has been settled. You should be receiving a check for approximately twelve hundred dollars in about two weeks.”

  Spenser’s eyes widened. No way. She couldn’t believe it. Hallelujah! Not only would her windows be replaced, but also she might actually have enough money left over to buy an air conditioner. Hot damn!

  Spenser showered, put on a new pair of jeans and a camp shirt, and waited for Bea to arrive. This was the night that they would be driving Tucker over to Toots’ for his costume fitting. She’d just finished listening to the “Shaker Song” for the third time when Bea’s bug put-putted up the street. She locked the trailer, fat lot of good that would do if someone was desperate for her Sue Grafton collection, and walked to her car. “Hey,” called Spenser

  “Hey,” answered her friend, wrestling her purse, otherwise known as the Graf Spee, out of the VW. A buoyant Bea bounced over to the Shadow, got in, hugged her chum, and proceeded to devour an enormous soft pretzel. With spicy mustard. "Want some?" Pretzel parts flew through the air.

  "No, thanks." Spenser smiled. "Jesus, how you can eat so much and still stay so damn skinny?"

  "I am not skinny. I am svelte."

  "Beg pardon."

  "Speaking of eats. You must come to dinner tomorrow. My uncle, the fisherman, caught some wonderful scaly things and he gave me some."

  "What'd he catch?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Those long, silvery things."

  "Smelt?"

  "Stank to high heaven."

  Bea burst out laughing, pretzel parts flying all over the dash. The trip to Cucamonga was peppered with thoughts on food in general, fish in specific, the horrors of hot weather, spiritualism, Emily Dickenson and chaos theory.

  Spenser pulled into the driveway of the Sunflower and didn't even have to stop when she reached the entrance. Tucker came bounding down the stairs with an enormous smile on his face, opened the car door and crammed his 6' 2" frame into the back seat.

  "Hi, Aunt Spenser." Tucker's voice trilled with anticipation.

  "Hey, Tuck."

  "Hi, Aunt Bea."

  "I wish he wouldn't call me that," said Bea sotto voce. "I keep expecting Andy and Opie to show up." Bea turned her head to Tucker and smiled her brightest smile. "Hey, Tucker."

  "Hey, you guys, my story's done. You wanna hear it?" asked Tucker, his ever-present blue notebook waving expectantly behind Spenser's head.

  "Fire away," answered Spenser.

  "It's called, 'Tucker Saves Planet Pizza, Part 4'."

  Spenser and Bea shared a silent chuckle. All of Tucker's stories were serials and all the action took place on Planet Pizza. This particular series had begun four months ago when Tucker and Gina Mae began 'g
oing steady'. His home planet was always called Pizza, for obvious reasons, and in this new story the town in which he lived was called PayDay, also for obvious reasons. Spenser was convinced that Gina Mae's blood consisted of mostly nuts and caramel.

  Tucker opened his book and began reading very slowly. "Tucker and Gina Mae were living on Planet Pizza in a mansion with horses and a basketball court and lots and lots of servants so Gina Mae didn't have to do the vacuuming."

  "I like it already," interjected Bea.

  Tucker traced the handwritten text with his index finger. "One day, Gina Mae was sitting on the porch of the mansion looking at the ocean. Gina Mae was thinking about Tucker and how handsome he was riding on his black stallion."

  “You got a black stallion, Tucker?” interrupted Bea. Again.