“It’s only pretend, Aunt Bea.”
“Oh. How disappointing. I was hoping you’d let me ride him.”
“Oh, please,” snorted Spenser. “The last time you rode a horse he threw you into a mud puddle.”
Bea looked at her friend with forced patience. “You’re just jealous because I had the guts to try that jump and you didn’t.” She jutted her chin at Spenser and turned to Tucker, “Please continue, Tucker.”
Tucker wasn’t sure what his aunts were talking about, so he just kept reading. "Gina Mae's best friend, Chloe, came walking up to the mansion. ‘Let's go for a walk on the beach,' she said to Gina Mae. 'Okay,' said Gina Mae."
Spenser took a quick glance in the rearview mirror. How sweet it was of Tucker to give Chloe the ability to walk.
"They were looking for buried treasure like rings and watches and gold stuff," continued Tucker. 'There are pirates here,' said Chloe. 'Yes,' said Gina Mae."
Pirates! Spenser stifled a chuckle. Johnny Depp what have you wrought?
"'And the baddest one of them all is Evil One-Eye the Pirate.'"
One-Eye? Spenser felt an odd sensation in the back of her mind, a niggling of worry.
"Chloe stopped and was scared. ‘Oh no, Gina Mae,' she said. 'He will steal our PayDay bars.' But Gina Mae was brave. She picked up a big stick on the sand. 'If we see One-Eye we will hit him over the head,' she said. And Chloe said as how that was brave and she was laughing."
Tucker eagerly turned the page. "'Oh look,' said Chloe. And she was pointing at a cave. So they walked to the cave and Gina Mae said, ‘Look, Chloe, a pirate’s flag.’ Sure enough right there in front of the cave was a black and white pirate’s flag with a skull and bones. Chloe did not want to go inside the cave because it was dark and Chloe said, 'I am scared.' But Gina Mae said, 'Come on, Chloe. We will hold hands.' So they walked into the cave and they saw all kinds of stuff like hammers and shovels. And over in the corner they saw something shiny like gold. So they walked over and they saw a treasure chest. And it was full of stuff like rings and gold and silver. And they started to laugh and jump up and down."
"They found treasure?" asked Bea. "How cool is that?"
Tucker lifted his head and smiled. "I know, huh?" He raised the blue notebook closer to his face. "So Gina Mae and Chloe grabbed some of the stuff and they were walking back when a scary voice said, 'I am One-Eye the Pirate and I am going to kill you.'
One-Eye, One-Eye. Spenser felt a chill run up her spine. Oh my god. Overoye. That's what she was trying to remember. He reminded her of a pirate. A one-eyed pirate.
"So Gina Mae and Chloe ran out of the cave. And Gina Mae saw Tucker on his horse and she was crying and screaming and he raced his horse over to her. Gina Mae was so happy, she turned around to tell Chloe that they were safe, but Chloe was not there."
Spenser turned to Bea, but her chum was thoroughly engrossed in the story.
"Tucker came up to Gina Mae and Gina Mae said as how Chloe was in the cave with One-eye the Pirate so Tucker jumped off his stallion and they raced to the cave. And there was One-Eye in the cave and he had a sword and he was stabbing Chloe and Gina Mae was screaming. So Tucker took out his sword and they had a big fight. And Tucker swung his sword back and forth and he killed One-Eye in the heart. And Tucker looked around and he saw Gina Mae and she was sitting next to Chloe and Chloe was smiling but she was died. And Gina Mae cried real hard.
"So Tucker kissed Gina Mae and said, 'Don't cry, Gina Mae.' But Gina Mae said, 'One-Eye has killed my friend.' And Tucker said, 'Yes, but I have killed One-Eye the Pirate. And now we will take all of One-Eye’s treasure and we will be rich.' And Gina Mae kissed Tucker and said, ‘You are my hero.’ And they cried and buried Chloe with some flowers and then they rode Tucker's black stallion along the ocean and they were holding hands and kissing because they were in love. The end.”
"That was pretty scary, Tucker," said Bea.
"Only that one part. Tucker saves Planet Pizza and then Gina Mae's happy again," assured Tucker.
Spenser saw his beaming face in the rear view mirror, but couldn't join in his triumph. She began to wonder just how much of the story was fabrication. Don't be ridiculous. Obviously, for some reason known only to Tucker, writing that Chloe had been murdered was the only way he could justify her passing. It was just a story. A very disturbing story. Spenser finally understood CC's concern.
Toots Van Der Neese's house came into view and Tucker's smile became a beacon. He opened the door and jumped out as soon as the car had, almost, come to a stop. Spenser followed Bea up the cobblestone walk to the old Craftsman’s inviting covered porch that wrapped amicably around the front of the house. A blonde wood swing hung tantalizingly in front of a bay window with a giant schefflera tickling the slatted arms.
On the porch stood Toots, feet apart and hands on hips, daring anyone to make something out of anything. Toots was nearing 85 years of age with the same fire in her eyes as the day she was born. She was an average looking woman but that was all that mediocrity could claim. She was a grandmother eighteen times over and a seven times great grandmother with a saucy tongue that exasperated her six children.
She'd begun her sewing career in an LA sweat shop at the tender age of twelve, then graduated to freelance seamstress for several local theatres while still in her teens. She began costume designing in her twenties and by her early thirties was revered on both coasts for her artistry and panache. Spenser met Toots in college where the venerable designer taught a class on costumes from the Greeks to the Restorationists. What Toots didn't know about costuming just wasn't worth knowing. Or so she told everyone. And Spenser believed her.
"Hi, Aunt Toots." Tucker's face was buried in Toots' billowing blouse.
"Tucker!" Toots looked up, and up, at a straightened Tucker. "My gracious, how you've grown."
"I'm tall," said Tucker squaring his shoulders. He stood next to Spenser and patted her head that came just about to his chest.
"He's a hell of a flag pole," joined Spenser, planting a kiss on Toots' cheek, Bea right behind her.
"You and Bea relax out here while I measure Tucker." Toots took Tucker's hand and guided him through the screen door. "There's iced tea on the table," came her voice from inside the house.
Bea poured two glasses then joined Spenser on the porch swing. They swayed in a gentle rhythm quietly enjoying the marvel of a Southern California Indian Summer night. To Spenser, this was the only redeeming quality to a hot afternoon, a temperate evening. The smog had dissipated enough to reveal a sidereal splendor.
The gibbous moon was splashing milky rays over the lawn and shrubs. The crickets were vying with the tree frogs for domination of the airwaves while a lone mockingbird treated the listeners to its plaintive repertory of bird impressions. A slight breeze wafted the scent of night blooming jasmine, honeysuckle, and silky white gardenias onto the porch and wrapped Spenser in a protective tropical shawl.
"This is the real meaning of life," whispered Bea. "The small joys that catch us unaware."
"They're just too few and far between." A particularly obnoxious bullfrog punctuated the thought with a raspy burp. Then all was silent again. "Why do you think Tucker wrote that Chloe was murdered?"
"Jeez, Spenser. How to break a mood."
"But why do you think?"
"I don't know. Maybe in his mind it's easier to accept someone being killed by a pirate than someone dying from a long-suffering illness."
"But, Bea, most of his stories are based on real things in his life."
"Reality check, Spense. There are no evil pirates residing at the Sunflower."
"Maybe there is."
"You're starting to scare me, girlfriend."
"Ival Overoye."
"The maintenance supervisor?"
"He's evil, Bea."
"So's my next-door neighbor, Mr Creesey, but that doesn't make him a murderer."
"But Overoye looks like a pirate."
"Well, of course he do
es," condescended Bea.
"I'm serious. He has this one eye that droops just like a pirate's eye-patch. One-eye," emphasized Spenser.
Bea rolled her eyes. "There are many real and fictional pirates with eye patches, my overly active imagination friend."
"But the story, Bea. What if Tucker saw Overoye do something that caused Chloe's death? But it just didn't compute so, subliminally he makes up this story about a murderous pirate because that makes sense to him."
Bea stared open-mouthed at her best friend. "Earth to Spenser. Overoye may look mean and scary and I probably wouldn't want to be caught in a dark alley with him, but does he also look like a psychotic killer who gets his jollies by offing terminally ill people?"
"So, maybe he has an ulterior motive."
"Like?"
Spenser didn't have to think long about that one. "Like burglary."
"Burglary? Oh, you mean like Chloe's PayDay bar or a treasure chest?" Bea asked in her best snarky voice.
Spenser sipped her tea. "Something like that."
"Right."
Spenser shot Bea a look. "The residents at the Sunflower are very well off, you know. They probably own expensive jewelry."
"So, this Overoye dude is killing people for their trinkets?"
"Diamonds, gold and silver are not trinkets."
"I stand corrected."
"I'm serious, Bea. Tucker's been acting funny, even his mother noticed. Gina Mae, too. Maybe they can feel something isn't right. You know how sometimes you just know something's wrong, but you don't know how you know?"
"Oh, please. Wouldn't the authorities be involved if there'd been any foul play? I mean, come on, Spense."
"What if he poisoned them and there's no way to trace it unless you look for it."
"Right, happens all the time."
Spenser watched as a moth determinedly fluttered toward the porch light. "Damn."
Bea clasped Spenser's hand. "Spense, sweetie, Tucker needed to make himself a hero so he could keep Gina Mae safe. Thus, the very fictional story. Now he's a hero, she's safe and all is once again right on Planet Pizza. The end."
"But why is he associating Chloe’s death with murder?"
"Because he is."
Spenser sighed heavily. "I'm obsessing, aren’t I?"
"And doing a damn good job of it, I might add."
"He grew another quarter of an inch just since last year." Toots' booming contralto caught the jet stream and blew a 747 into another flight pattern. She and Tucker sat on the railing facing Spenser and Bea.
"I'm big," boasted Tucker.
"You most certainly are," agreed Bea.
"Tucker tells me he's in a play." Toots poured herself and Tucker a glass of sun tea.
"'Peter and the Wolf'," offered Spenser.
"Gonna invite me, Tucker?" asked Toots handing Tucker a glass.
"You can come," assured Tucker, his head nodding in approval. "Aunt Spenser's coming and Aunt Bea, too, huh?"
"Yes, indeedee," answered Bea enthusiastically.
"Aunt Spenser's making the set." Tucker beamed.
"Is she now?" Toots was intrigued.
"I'm just giving the crew some pointers." Spenser was actually blushing.
"Are you now?" Toots' smile was skeptical.
"I do know a thing or two about sets." Spenser's tone was on the verge of defensive.
"And lights, too, as I recall." Toots' smile became deliciously devilish.
"Never mind, Toots," warned Spenser.
"Lights?" Bea grabbed at the bait.
"Never mind, Toots," said Spenser more emphatically.
Which, of course, Toots took as a challenge and barreled on unintimidated. "She ever tell you of the time she was working on repositioning some leakos at the old college theatre?"
"No, Toots."
"Must have slipped her mind," answered an intrigued Bea. "Do tell."
"Toots!" Spenser's bellow was a decibel above Metallica.
"The lights were attached to this old oak beam." Spenser groaned and covered her ears. "She climbed the extension ladder up to the beam and sat straddling it. About fifteen minutes later she hears sirens." Spenser grimaced. "It sounds real close, but our intrepid stage hand just keeps on working. Suddenly, the sirens are right outside the theatre and the whole auditorium is ablaze with flashing red lights."
Spenser gave up all hope of retaining even a shred of dignity.
"Then, these firefighters, in full gear, with axes and a hose, come tearing onto the stage. Well...Spenser stares at them. They stare at Spenser. Finally, the captain throws his helmet down in a fit of anger and yells at her to get off the goddamned beam." Toots was laughing so hard she had to catch her breath to continue. "She was sitting on a heat sensor inside the beam that was hooked up to the fire department. She'd set off the fire alarm!"
"Aaaaagggghhhh," moaned Spenser, hiding her face in her hands.
Toots' gales of laughter mingled with those of Bea and Tucker carrying their glee buoyant on the night air.
"Spenser!" Bea was practically choking on her chortles. "I always suspected you were one hot mama!"
"Toots," said Spenser through clenched teeth. "You are dead meat."
Toots Van Der Neese hauled her arthritic bones off the railing and enveloped Spenser in a hug big enough to include the entire ensemble of "Guys and Dolls". Original cast and touring company combined. There was no way Spenser could remain even remotely upset with this lovable rascal. She finally gave in and joined in her friends' merriment and let the beautiful, warm Indian Summer night embrace her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday - afternoon
Spenser swung the Shadow gently into the driveway of the Sunflower and parked a small distance from the entrance. She'd just delivered her last package and decided that a cool walk on the residence grounds might be just what the weatherman ordered. The newly mown lawn looked so damned inviting. Spenser detoured from the main path and followed the wisteria arbor north, fascinated by the tree-filtered light making pastel quilts on her arms.
The sundry scents of sweet alyssum, honeysuckle, rose and so many other flowers, the names of which she hadn't a clue, danced on the warm air and lighted gently on her senses. What a marvel was Mother Nature. She had the power to transform the mundane into the extraordinary; metamorphose depressions into creative treatises; alter dim perceptions into thoughts of ultimate clarity; rescue the insane.
"Ah, sanity. What a concept." Spenser sometimes felt that sanity was wildly overrated. She wondered if maybe there was a comfort to being insane. Not the wild, psyche destroying Rasputin kind of dementia. But a soft, gauzy-filtered eccentric kind of fugue. You know, the kind where nothing bothers you and the whole world is a New York cheesecake. "Yeah, that would be cool."
Like having a disconnect button. Push once to escape the vicissitudes of life. Push twice to re-engage. Spenser planted herself in front of a crooked aspen and traced the curving, sleek spine with her hand. "You got it good, my deciduous friend. No flights of fancy for you, eh? No questioning your raison d'etre."
"Except possibly when the woodpeckers strike."
Spenser whirled toward the voice, lost her footing, and smacked her elbow on a knotty poplar. Brianne Saunders rushed to Spenser's side. "I'm so sorry." The doctor cradled Spenser's injured humerus, testing for any real damage.
"Funny bone, my ass." Spenser blushed not only from being found out as a talker to non-sentient life forms, but also from using profanity in front of the good doctor. "Sorry. I'm all right. Really."
"I'm the one who should apologize. It was rude of me to intrude on your..."
"Nervous breakdown?"
Brianne smiled that luscious smile. "I think reverie is a more appropriate word."
"I don't make a habit of talking to trees. Honest."
"I don't see why not. They make the perfect audience." The doctor moved to the arbor bench and sat down. "Attentive but nonjudgmental. Receptive, non-speculative, unpretentious."<
br />
"An arboreal best friend," said Spenser, rubbing her elbow, as she sat next to Brianne.
"Precisely. Perhaps void of compassion, but at least always there."
"Barring developers and Dutch elm disease." Spenser scrunched up her face, squinting at the aspen. "Do aspen get Dutch elm?"
"Dutch aspen?" offered the doctor.
The women smiled companionably and fell into a comfortable silence, each delighting in the miracle of nature. The slight breeze was a sweet breath nuzzling their necks, the birdsongs a charming chaos of rhythms. Spenser wished the moment could last but knew first hand of the impermanence of good times. They were always bittersweet. Damn it. Why couldn't she just enjoy the instant and not poison it with thoughts of its demise.
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