Chapter 24
After all that exercise, mental and otherwise, I was starving. What I really wanted was an honest-to-goodness breakfast, not a quick cup of coffee. I headed for the nearest little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that promised to deliver all of the above. Fortunately, I didn’t have to drive far; there was a small diner just a block or so away. I had remembered spotting it in the same complex where my mother went food shopping. The turquoise and white sign in front of the place—PUTTERS PARADISE—looked bigger than the restaurant.
I made myself comfortable in the faded blue booth by the front window and glanced at the menu. Across from me were a few couples and in the middle of the room was a table for six, filled with men who apparently had just gotten off of the golf course.
In the corner on the right was a younger guy working frantically on a laptop. I glanced around and, sure enough, the sign above the cash register said, WE HAVE WI-FI. I took out my iPhone and scanned for messages. The waitress had already placed my order, and I figured I wouldn’t have long to wait.
The conversation around the middle table never strayed from golf. Not that I was trying to listen. I wasn’t. But it was impossible to ignore them. I glanced over at the guy in the corner, who was still working on his computer. Did it take that long for his food to arrive? I hoped not, since I was famished. Then he turned his head for an instant and I froze. Speechless. Dazed. It was the man from the blue Mazda. Not a single doubt in my mind.
It was difficult to guess his age the last time I saw him, in front of the blond woman’s house on some cul-de-sac in Surprise. But I knew it was him—fabulous build, light blond hair, and the same tan khaki pants as before. I quickly spun my head around and scanned the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a blue Mazda a few rows from my car. I guess I hadn’t noticed it earlier because all I could think about was eating.
Showtime. I’d better get off my butt and make my move. How many chances like this are going to fall into my lap?
The man’s appearance took me completely off guard, and I was at a loss as to how to approach him. I figured I might as well be direct, even though flirting might have furthered my cause.
“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt your meal. That is . . . er . . . um, when it gets here, but I saw you in front of my neighbor Jeanette’s house the other day, and I was wondering . . .”
“I’m sorry.” He looked at me. No need to guess his age. He couldn’t have been any older than thirty.
Is Jeanette really such a cougar? Is that what he thinks I am? I’ll only know when he opens his mouth.
“My schedule is absolutely packed and I can’t fit you in for at least two weeks. Can it wait that long, or do you need someone right away?”
Oh my God! Is this guy a high-priced gigolo? Can what wait? Can what wait? Think fast.
“Um, uh—” Just then the waitress appeared and refilled his cup of coffee.
“So, how’s it going, Josh? Think you can get the speed up on this thing? My boss is pitching a fit and doesn’t want to buy a new computer.”
“Yeah, I’m working on it. Did he know there was a virus? He’s got to install a software program to prevent that.”
“I’ll let him know when he gets in later,” the waitress said. “Oh, what the heck. Just install it. I’ll tell him I authorized it.”
“Sure he’s going to be okay with that?”
“He’d better be if he knows what’s good for his business.”
“All right, then.”
The waitress left and Josh turned back to me. “Sorry about that. So, as I was saying, my schedule is really booked up. Here’s my card. Leave me a voicemail with all your details and I’ll get you on my calendar. If it’s really an emergency, I do work late at night and on weekends. Be sure to leave me a message. I won’t remember anything if you tell me now. At least I can replay voicemail.”
I was so relieved that I hardly knew what to say. This guy wasn’t some escort, and he wasn’t Jeanette’s boyfriend. He was her computer guy. Her computer guy! So much for the jealous wife of the boyfriend theory. Great job, Mom, for having me chase all over the place. I took the card and put it in my bag.
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. Enjoy your coffee.”
My meal was already on my table by the time I walked back to my booth—Applewood smoked bacon, scrambled eggs, and sourdough toast. At least it hadn’t gotten too cold, but that didn’t matter. I was too overjoyed to think I had literally stumbled upon one of the neighborhood mysteries and solved it without any effort on my part. I figured that by the time the book club meeting got underway tomorrow, I’d be able to put this whole fiasco to rest.
Unfortunately, the proverbial bubble burst the minute I walked into my mother’s house. She was just getting off the phone and motioned for me to walk over. “You’re not going to believe this, Phee. Not in a million years.”
“What? Did someone confess?”
“No, no, but with all the attention this book curse is getting, one of the networks is sending Vivian Knowlton to the book club meeting tomorrow.”
I shrugged. “Who’s Vivian Knowlton?”
My mother looked at me as if I’d asked who George Washington was. “Don’t you watch TV? Vivian Knowlton is the Psychic Diva. Her reality show is right up there with Sister Wives and that Honey Boo Boo.”
“Sorry, Mom, but I guess I don’t watch that stuff.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because once Vivian Knowlton gets here tomorrow, she’s going to take over that meeting.”
“WHAT?” I could literally feel my blood pressure rising.
“Oh, yes. It’s been arranged with the library. Gretchen Morin invited Vivian to discuss The Twelfth Arrondissement and any paranormal connections it may have regarding the cursing of people who read it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. That meeting is going to turn into one big sideshow. I don’t know how I’ll manage to convince everyone it was a ruse. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been great at public speaking.”
“Neither was that British king, what was his name? The one with the speech impediment? Colin Firth played him and was positively eloquent.”
“I think that was King George the Sixth, but stuttering isn’t my problem. It’s going to be impossible if that psychic lady gets the crowd all riled up. I really thought I’d be able to pull all the evidence together like Miss Marple until the perpetrators finally break down. Look, I need to get ahold of Nate and try to piece things together.”
“You know what would be good?” My mother continued on as if she hadn’t asked a question. “A whiteboard and dry-erase markers. I’m going to give the library a call and make sure they bring a large whiteboard and markers to the social hall tomorrow. You’ll need them in order to present your findings. Unless, of course, you planned on doing something fancy with the computer.”
I was stunned and it took me a few seconds to respond. “You mean a PowerPoint presentation? I’m not giving a lecture on water rates or gardening in the desert. I want to present the facts as we know them and let people see for themselves who was orchestrating this entire charade and why.”
“So, the whiteboard, then? Much more dramatic, I think. Draw big letters and be sure to underline when you emphasize something. And articulate when you speak. Articulate.”
Honestly, she was beginning to sound like my tenth-grade English teacher. I looked her straight in the eye and enunciated every word. “I need to call Nate. Now. I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.”
“See, you’ve got the knack of it.”
Groaning, I walked into the guest bedroom before my mother could say anything else. It was bad enough this meeting was going to be televised on major networks, but now this? It was as if that outrageous book had a life of its own and was manipulating everyone. And why should Gretchen Morin invite a psychic when she told Nina Alvarez there was no such thing as a book curse? Was she trying to exonerate herself at the book club or what? I grabbed my phone and dialed quickly.
Voicemail. Maybe Nate was still in the office. I dialed the switchboard for the Mankato Police Department and asked to be connected to Detective Williams. More voicemail. My lucky day. Meanwhile, my mother’s phone rang. Mayberry couldn’t hold a candle to this place.
“That was Herb,” my mother shouted. “Look out the window. There’s a news crew interviewing Jeanette about the attempted murder. They must have arrived right after you came in. They had the wrong address and went to his house first.”
“This is worse than I thought. Those news crews aren’t going to let up until they milk this thing dry. There’ll be more spin-off stories than you can imagine. ‘Who styled Thelmalee’s hair?’ ‘What was Minnie Bendelson’s last meal?’ ‘What kind of golf cart did Marilyn Scutt drive?’ Right down to calling in some expert to discuss ‘the pollination habits of the local bees in Sun City West.’”
“Hold on. That’s the phone again.”
I stared out the window as my mother took the call. A van from a local TV station was parked across the street. Jeanette was going to make the early evening news. I’d catch the segment later that night.
“That was Cecilia,” my mother yelled. “She’s at the library. They’ve got a news crew there interviewing people about their reading preferences. Said if I hurry, I can be on the news.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of going over there, are you?”
“Of course not. The only place I’m going is to the beauty parlor. I have an appointment in less than an hour, and I need to get a move on. You don’t think I’d risk being on national television tomorrow looking like this, do you?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
“Say no more. I’m having my roots touched up and then getting a quick trim. Did you ever consider adding some blond highlights to your hair?”
“I have natural highlights.”
“This is television, Phee. No one is supposed to look natural on television. Besides, your hair could use a boost.”
I knew it. Harriet Plunkett couldn’t keep her mouth shut when it came to my hair. If it was short, it should be long. If it was long, it should be curly. I learned to ignore the suggestions. “It’ll be fine. I’ve got some more digging to do on the computer. If I decide to go out, I’ll leave a note.”
My mother grumbled and then proceeded to shuffle around until it was time for her to leave to go to her appointment. The TV van across the street was gone as my mother drove down the block. I was about to turn away from the window when I noticed Jeanette’s garage door opening and her car pulling out. I was all but blinded by the shine on that KIA Sportage. Well, I could have had one, too, if I was willing to trade mine in. Stop being so jealous.if
It did handle beautifully during my test drive. And those sleek lines looked nothing like the older models. Well, maybe something to consider when I get back to Minnesota . . . Oh, who was I kidding . . . ? Then, it was as if someone had lit a firecracker in front of me. Holy cow! Holy, holy cow! No one tried to murder Jeanette. No one! I should have realized this before. Vivian Knowlton or not, I was going to have my say tomorrow at the book club.