We made it back to Miss Elizabeth’s Bed and Breakfast almost without incident. Almost. Lefty was tired from pulling cars out of ditches and he did his best just to drive straight. Unfortunately, driving straight wasn’t in the cards. Forty mile an hour wind gusts pushed us around on a sheet of ice. While I was at the paper, we’d gotten a lot of sleet, which put a thick crust of ice on everything. The Gator would ride on top of the snow and then break through and we’d have to plow our way out. It took an hour to go six blocks. I’d gotten a theory of the crime and even a suspect, but it wasn’t worth it. I could’ve waited a day.
After Lefty finally got the Gator into the garage, we had to shovel before we could close the door because the wind instantly blew a three-foot drift in behind us. By the time we staggered into the back door, I’d lost the feeling in my butt. You know it’s bad when you can’t feel your butt.
“Finally!” exclaimed Irene as she bustled over from her stove. “I was thinking about calling out the National Guard, but Will called and said he saw you plowing Minnie Lake’s front yard.”
Lefty hung up his frozen stiff clothes and started clawing the ice out of his eyebrows. “I didn’t plow anyone’s front yard. He must’ve had a couple for the drive home.”
“Don’t even say that.”
Lefty raised a brow but said nothing.
Irene helped me unbundle and saw the scarves. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, Lefty. What did you do?”
His eyes shifted to the right. “Nothing. She wanted to go to the newspaper. I got her there in one piece.”
She held up the barf scarf. “I don’t call this one piece.”
“You’d be wrong then,” said Lefty. “And I bet she’ll give us a great review on TripAdvisor, too.”
I said I would, a stellar review, the smell of steak and Guinness cinched it. I was starving.
“Hold on,” said Lefty. “What is that noise?”
“Huh?” asked Irene.
“You didn’t tell those ladies the rules, did you? Irene, good God, people will start avoiding us if we can’t control the situation.”
“I told them.” She listened for a second and I heard it, too. A loud rhythmic thumping. “That’s not her. It’s Fats. She’s exercising.”
“Why?” asked Lefty.
“She ate cookies,” I said.
“She wanted them,” said Irene, rather defensively.
I took off my ski pants and my butt started to tingle. It wasn’t pleasant, but at least it wasn’t going to turn black and fall off. “It’s not your fault. She has issues with food.”
“She attacked those cookies with a vengeance.”
“That’s how she does everything.” I flexed my fingers and toes. Not bad. A little blue, but that’s what you get for being a Watts. “I’ll calm her down.”
That’s what I said, but Fats was uncalmable. I’d never been able to distract her from exercising or feeding me steamed vegetables. Steamed cauliflower is gross, but I ate it.
“Wait,” said Irene. “You need the rules.”
“Got it,” I said. “Don’t be interesting.”
“Well, yes, but there’s more to it than that,” said Irene. “First, make sure—”
A loud thump followed by a scream interrupted her. Lefty took off running and Irene pointed her spatula at the door. “Go!”
So I went running through Miss Elizabeth’s house, but I didn’t know where I was going. Lefty was fast.
“Fats! Clarence!” I turned three corners and ran into Lefty’s back nearly taking him out.
“What the hell?” He stumbled forward and caught himself on the newel post.
“She fell!” yelled Clarence from the top of the stairs.
I darted around Lefty to run to Fats, but then I saw her. If she fell, she had an awfully interesting way of landing. Fats was balanced on her hands, knees on elbows, halfway up the stairs on the landing. The PJs were gone and she was back in spandex.
“I didn’t fall,” she said. “I jumped.”
Lefty clutched his chest. “Thank goodness.”
Fats brought herself up into a full handstand and arched her back until her body was in a graceful curve and her heels touched the narrow space between two framed family photos. Then she snapped her legs back and she was upright without breaking sweat.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked.
“I ate six cookies. One after another,” said Fats as she hopped down the rest of the stairs in the squat position.
“What’s wrong with that?” Lefty asked. “Irene’s cookies are the best.”
“I haven’t eaten that many cookies in the last six months.”
I crossed my arms. “Six months?”
“Okay. A year.” She reached the end of the stairs and asked, “How far is Crabapple’s?”
“You’re not going out for tofu tonight,” said Lefty. “They’re closed. Irene is making dinner.”
“Tofu?”
“No.”
“Broccoli?”
“Maybe.”
I threw up my hands. “It’s steak and ale pie and it smells fantastic.”
Fats started doing squat thrusts. “I have to get ahold of myself.”
“I agree, but I don’t think my meaning is the same as yours.”
“Is this normal?” Lefty asked.
“It depends on your definition of normal,” I said.
“I have a gym setup in the basement.”
Fats rocketed to her feet. “Where?”
He pointed at a door.
“May I?”
“Knock yourself out.”
She dashed for the door and I yelled after her, “Not literally!”
We stared after her and listened to the pounding down the stairs and the “Hell, yeah,” when she saw the equipment and then a metallic thwack of weights being put on a bar.
“It guess it takes a lot of focus to stay in that kind of shape,” said Lefty.
I grinned. “I wouldn’t know and I don’t want to.”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Clarence asked.
“She’s okay for her.” I turned to Lefty. “Do I have time for a bath before dinner?”
“I’m sure you do. Dinner should be in about an hour.”
I thanked him and tromped up the stairs, my body feeling heavier and heavier by the moment. My arm was aching something fierce and I hoped I hadn’t messed it up. When Nancy cut off my cast, I never expected to go tumbling into snowbanks at high velocity. I should’ve known better.
“Are you okay?” Clarence asked when I finally got to the top of the stairs and stooped to pick up Moe, who was chasing her tail to no avail. “You look as though something terrible happened.”
“My Uncle Morty had a heart attack,” I said. “And Lefty tried to kill me with fun.”
“Is he okay?”
“For now. I see some lifestyle changes in his future. It’s not going to be pretty.”
“Did you find anything out about Sister Maggie?” Clarence was wringing her hands and her cherub-like face had transformed into a mask of worry. She wasn’t her cheery self at all.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, well. I shouldn’t worry you.”
“Consider me worried.”
“It seems that Sister Miriam knows where we are,” she said.
“Is that all?”
Clarence let loose a torrent of fears as we walked down to our room. Would Aunt Miriam be very angry? What would she do? Did she feel betrayed?
I couldn’t muster one ounce of give a crap. I smelled. My arm was burning, and I was interesting to a ghost. And it could get worse. It would get worse. It was me.
“She’s always angry with me, so I’m not so much worried about it.” I opened the door to our room and there in the center all Sister Maggie’s belongings were out. And I mean out out. Her things were stacked in a tower with her clothes floating in the air above. A whole outfit. Skirt, shirt, sweater, and veil, full, like someone was wearing them and holding a book in front of themselves.
I slammed the door shut and bit back the mother of cursing rants, my heart pounding.
“What’s wrong?” Clarence asked.
“I…uh…”
Moe growled and yipped as she wiggled, struggling to get to the door. Not going to happen. Clarence couldn’t go in there. I wasn’t sure she was ready for real life, much less the afterlife or whatever that was.
“Moe hasn’t gone out, has she?” I asked with a bit of a pant.
“No. Do you think she needs to?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Can you take her? I’ve got to do a thing and stuff.”
“Um…okay.” Clarence hesitated but then carried the pocket dog down the hall.
I waited for her to turn onto the stairs, knowing she would look back to check on me. She did and I waved with a pasted on smile. She frowned but went down the stairs.
Breathe, Mercy. Just breathe. It’s not what it looks like.
Wrong.
I opened the door and I was not seeing things. Everything was still there. Stacked up in a precarious and, dare I say, impossible to maintain tower, or floating with no strings attached.
“Mercy?” Clarence called out.
I didn’t think. If I had, I sure wouldn’t have done what I did. I dove for Maggie’s things, launching myself at her veil. I half-expected to connect with something solid, but it was just air and musty clothes. I snatched the veil out of the air and the whole tower collapsed back into the box. I landed on the balls of my feet and tumbled forward to my knees, whacking my good arm on the edge of the box.
The door opened behind me and Clarence said, “Do you want me to—what are you doing?”
I looked back, veil in hands, and drew a blank. “Nothing.”
“You don’t have to hide that from me.”
“Er…what?”
“You don’t have to go through her things alone. I can handle it,” said Clarence stoutly. “I have to toughen up and, besides, we’re honoring her by caring.”
“Okay. I just didn’t know.” I got to my feet with the veil still in my hands. “I am going to take a bath though.”
“Good. Would you like some hot chocolate? I think Irene has a fresh pot.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” I laid the veil on the top of a well-used notebook and rubbed my arm.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Clarence left and I said, “Knock it off.”
“No,” said the voice speaking inside my head.
Hearing voices isn’t a good sign for anyone at any time, but I’d seen on Irene’s website that Elizabeth occasionally talked to the guests, so I decided that insanity wasn’t looming. Besides, what choice did I have, stop investigating? I had a feeling Elizabeth wouldn’t be keen on that, so instead of calling for a psych consult, I filled up the six-foot-long claw-foot tub in the big bathroom off our bedroom. It was seriously luxe in there with double sinks, a glassed-in shower with about twenty spray nozzles for massages, and a reclining chair that had a foot bath attached.
I plugged the tub and filled it with steaming water and a generous helping of bubble bath. The room filled with lavender-scented steam and I sank into the tub. I might’ve been just a little scalded, but it was worth it.
At least it was worth it until I put my head under the water and came up with a song in my head. I’m not talking about an ear worm like when you can’t get some catchy lyrics out of your head. I’m talking about hearing music. Hearing it, like there was an Alexa in the room, which there wasn’t.
“John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave. John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave.”
That’s right. It wasn’t even a song I liked or written in the current century. I’d spent the whole day thinking about death. A little break would’ve been nice, but it wasn’t happening. The song kept going in a loop. It was probably Miss Elizabeth’s favorite. I assumed she was from the 1880s like her house, but I might be wrong on that. She loved the hell out of that song.
Because I’m me, I decided to ignore it and picked up my phone when it sounded off with a generic ringtone. I almost didn’t answer because usually generic means loser stalker that got my number somehow, but I needed a distraction so I swiped green.
“Hello?” The instant I spoke the music volume went down. Elizabeth was just trying to bother me.
“Mercy? This is Tank Tancredi.”
“Oh, hi. How’s it going? Do you have Italian beef yet?” I asked.
“Eating isn’t in the cards for me tonight,” he said.
I sank down until the bubbles were over my chin. “Bad news, I take it.”
“You were right.”
“About?” I asked, but I already knew from the sound of his voice. Animal lover that he was, this would be hard to bear.
“The animals.” Tank was choked up and it took a minute for him to continue. “A bunch of pets went missing.”
The music stopped abruptly and I mouthed, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said the voice in my head.
The animal thing was so upsetting, the voice didn’t even bother me.
“Were there articles in your paper?” I asked.
“Yes, but they were after the murder.”
Tank had shown his investigating skills with his incredible thoroughness. He went through every edition for six months before and after Maggie’s body was discovered. No mention of animals before. All the coverage was on the fires and escalating thefts and break-ins. He went back another six months. No fires, but there were plenty of thefts and break-ins. Those went back about two years and Tank made an Excel spreadsheet to track them. Once he had it all down in a handy color-coded graph, he could see the trends. The crime rate with regard to thefts had steadily been rising for the two years before Maggie’s murder. At first, the thefts were far apart, but as time went on they got closer and closer together and became bolder. The thief or thieves came in while families were sleeping and stole things right under their noses. Interestingly, violent crime didn’t change. For St. Seb proper, that meant no violent crime at all. Zero. Not even a domestic. Outside the city limits, yes. They had various problems, but not a lot. Inside, nothing. Tank said this was normal for them.
The most interesting thing about Tank’s graphs was that they showed a dramatic uptick during the two summers prior to Maggie’s murder and there were also bumps on holidays.
“That says kids to me,” I said.
“Definitely. They’ve got the time to do the crime,” said Tank.
“So what happened after with animals?”
Tank took a breath and told me that there was a lot just outside of town, past the city limits sign, where a family had made a grisly discovery during the summer after Maggie’s murder. An old farmhouse had been left to fall into ruin and a local dentist’s family had gone out to look at the location. They were thinking of building a new house and the property had a nice setting. While they were there they found a series of what looked like small graves, complete with crosses. They didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a family plot for the farm and back in the day, infant mortality was high. But then they went inside the dilapidated house and found animal skins nailed to the remaining walls. Cats. Dogs. Even a few hamsters and Guinea pigs. There was a cobbled together table made from the farmhouse’s old front door and it looked like it was stained with blood.
“How many?” I asked, feeling as barfy as when I rolled out of Lefty’s Gator.
“Twenty-six total.”
“That’s a whole lot. Nobody reported missing pets?”
“If they did, it wasn’t covered in the paper.”
“We need to know when that started.”
“We do,” he said with a shake in his voice.
I waited while Tank got himself together. Then he told me that Barney Scheer had reported on the discovery and had done a pretty bang up job. Some animals were identified by their owners and he determined that the first one to go missing was a dachshund that belonged to Mrs. Louisa Henderson. He found the missing pet ad Mrs. Henderson put in the classifieds in the June before Maggie died. A lot of the missing animals were in the classifieds. Thirteen in total. As far as Tank could tell until the discovery at the farmhouse, all the owners thought their animals had simply gotten lost. Every single animal that had a known owner disappeared between June and December 1965.
“None after?” I asked.
“Not that Barney found. I saw a couple of ads for lost cats in the six months after, but they weren’t on the list.”
“That six months is very important.”
“Looks like it,” said Tank.
“Nobody connected it to the fires that were happening at the same time?” I asked.
“Not that I can see. Of course, if we had the police report, we’d know more.”
“That flooding is awfully convenient for the cops.”
Tank took a deep breath. “You think they’re lying about the files being lost?”
“I think it’s weird that they kept putting files in a basement in a flood zone.”
“That’s a yes.”
“It’s a maybe,” I said. “You know the chief, how much does he hate me?”
“I give you an eight out of ten. He was nearly replaced after you found that little girl. A lot of questions about his competency came up.”
“What about his liver?” I asked.
Tank went quiet and I could feel the struggle going on by his breath and the needless shuffling of paper. Family loyalty versus the truth was always a tough choice.
“Yes,” he said finally. “How did you know?”
“I’m a nurse, but a career in medicine isn’t really necessary. Your brother-in-law isn’t looking good and the family history is a red flag.”
“He’s got a problem. Mallory tries to talk to him about it, but he denies it completely. He says he only drinks socially.”
“I have it on good authority that he’s up to three or four bottles a week.”
“Shit.”
“It’s not good, but I’m more interested in whether you think Stratton would lie to me. She said it first and the deputy, Dallas Mosbach, looked a little uneasy about it.”
“Dallas is a good kid. He worked for me in high school, covering football games.”
“Do you consider him a liar, in general?” I asked.
“Not at all. He’d lie to you, but it wouldn’t come easy, and he’d only do it if he was told to.”
“What about Stratton?” I asked.
“She’s Will’s girlfriend.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I like her a lot. She’s about our only hope of getting Will on the wagon. Candy doesn’t drink at all. Her father had a problem.”
“It was an instant reaction when I asked for the files. Do you think they discussed what to say to people who came in?”
“I doubt it,” he said with a chuckle. “Mercy, you are a known troublemaker. They don’t want you around, making people take another look at Will.”
“Like I’m going to go away just because there was a flood,” I said.
“I’m not saying it’s a good plan,” said Tank. “On another note, I copied all the articles on that plane crash. Do you want me to email them to you?”
I gave him my email address and asked, “Anything interesting?”
“Well…”
I got barfy again. “What?”
“Nothing earth-shattering. It was a small plane crash, deemed an accident. Faulty wiring or something. Plane was coming in from New Orleans and supposed to land in St. Louis. They almost made it.”
Almost.
“Nothing about it not being an accident?” I asked.
“No, but Melanie, Will’s mom, she was the chief then, didn’t investigate. Our cops just secured the scene and I guess Jeff City took over.”
“Why not St. Louis?”
“I have no idea. No one seemed bothered by it at the time.”
I swirled my free hand through the bubbles. Agatha and Daniel. Nobody was bothered. “Sounds straightforward.”
“There’s nothing in our coverage to say it wasn’t.”
“Why did you sound funny when I asked if there was anything interesting then?” I asked.
“There are photos of the crash site.”
“Pretty bad?”
“Have you seen the photos of the Buddy Holly crash?” Tank asked.
“No.” I’d heard of that crash, but only because Grandad loved a song about it and insisted on telling me where he was when the music died whenever he heard it. In bed is the answer, but he heard about it on the playground at his elementary school. According to him, tag was never the same after that.
“Do you want to know more right now?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said, but I needed to know more. Agatha and Daniel died for a reason. Something they had with them or something they knew, but that could wait. It had to wait. “Is there anything else?”
“There is, but it’s just interesting.”
“Okay. Consider me interested,” I said.
“Chief Lucas’ comments on the animals.”
“Let me guess. He called it a small time crime.”
“Nailed it. Now he did express horror and said he would work with the ASPCA, but that animals weren’t people after all.”
“I bet that went over well.”
“Like a lead balloon. He barely held onto his job. Frankly, it looks like nobody else wanted it, dead nuns and somebody killing family pets doesn’t look like a fun gig.”
“But that was all over,” I said.
“He notes that in his statement and he was right. It was over. No other animals were ever found and just the normal amount wandered off after that.”
“No suspects, I suppose?”
“It was suggested that your priest came down and was stealing people’s pets to practice before he killed Sister Maggie,” said Tank.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Well, that’s a hell of a lot better than thinking it could be your neighbor and it ended with Maggie’s death, so it kind of makes sense, if you really want to think he did it.”
“I guess so,” I said, feeling sad and worn out. I needed to call Spidermonkey, but I found the prospect of interrupting his family reunion with my big fat mess a seriously unpleasant thought.
“Do you have anything else for me?” Tank asked. “Don’t forget we have a deal.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“How’s your uncle?”
“Good, I think. Waiting on results.”
We said goodbye and I looked at the phone for a second, trying to make myself call Spidermonkey. I couldn’t do it and set the phone back on the tray. The second I did, the music started up again. No rest for the wicked as my mom would say.
“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed.
Clarence appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” I yelled over the music in my head.
“Why are you yelling?”
“Am I?” I tried to lower my voice, but that’s pretty damn hard with John Brown’s freaking body a-mouldering in your flipping head. “My ears have water in them.”
Clarence set a mug on my tray and said something I couldn’t make out. Then she went over to the vanity and started rifling through the toiletries. The music got steadily louder. I had to get out of that house. But where could I go in the middle of a blizzard? Tank’s house? Maybe he hadn’t left yet.
I picked up my phone and the music vanished so suddenly I jerked and made a big splash over the side of the tub. “Oh!”
Clarence spun around. “Mercy? Oh, my goodness.” She covered her eyes and I looked down. I was up and out of the protective bubbles in all my glory. Mom better never find out I flashed a nun and I didn’t even want to think about Aunt Miriam. “I’m sorry. My…um…ears cleared.” I sank down. “You can look.”
“I’m so sorry, Mercy. I didn’t mean to. Oh, my goodness.”
“It’s fine. We all have them,” I said.
The fiery flush cleared her cherub cheeks and she said sweetly, “I don’t think that’s quite accurate.”
“Well, you know what I mean. Breasts are”—in my peripheral vision I could see Maggie’s things going into another tower—“holy crap.”
“Men think so, I believe,” said Clarence, walking toward me with a box of Q-tips.
“No!”
“What? What’s happening?”
“Stay there.”
Clarence started panicking. “What’s wrong? What happened? What did I do? I didn’t mean to see.”
“I…uh…had an idea. I have to think about the idea that I had. Don’t move.”
Maggie’s clothing was hovering as if someone was inside of them again. If I hadn’t seen our cat, Blackie, not to mention what happened out at the lake with Janet Lee Fine, I would’ve had my own cardiac event. It’s not the kind of thing that gets better the second time around. Clarence couldn’t see that. She thought breasts were “Oh, my goodness.”
Think of something. Think of something.
“I’m going to get out of the tub.” I’d get everything back in the box and stash them in another room. There we go. “Close your eyes or I’ll scar you for life.”
Clarence covered her eyes. “Is your idea good? Is there a new clue?”
“Yes, actually there is.” I set my phone on the tray and new music blared.
“Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
The Battle Hymn of the Republic? What the hell?
I stood up and started to step out as the music got louder, but then I got an idea. I reached for my phone and the music got softer. I pulled my hand back and it got louder.
Very subtle, Elizabeth.
A burst of laughter echoed through my head and I picked up my phone before sitting down. The music shut off in the middle of “Hallelujah,” and a wave of water went over the side of my tub again.
“Are you out?” Clarence asked.
“I’m in and there’s just enough bubbles.”
She lowered her hand tentatively and said, “I don’t understand.”
“I’m beginning to,” I said. “I’m supposed to call someone.”
“Who?”
Mom? Dad? Pete?
“I don’t know.”
Clarence perched on the vanity’s tufted stool and asked, “Can I help?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“The hospital to check on your uncle?”
“No, Pete will call.”
My phone went off with Mom’s theme and I quickly answered, “Hi. How is he?”
“He’s still fine,” said Dad. “Pete called. I said I’d call you. I’m starting to like that guy.”
That’s too little too late.
“Do tell?” I asked.
“He’s not half bad. Morty’s out of the cath lab and he’s got a blockage, but he’s stable, so they’re going to wait and see how his numbers look tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, leaning back and sinking into my lukewarm water. “Are you and Mom okay?”
“We are. Did you call your guy?” Dad asked.
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for? A sign from God?”
I glanced over at the hovering nun’s outfit and said, “I think I already got one, sort of.”
“Well, then get on it.” Dad railed at me over lollygagging and then hung up so he could have dinner with my mother, who’d had a good cry and was now trying to figure out if it was possible to charter a helicopter to get them back in the morning, since every highway in the state was blocked. So much for the not panicking.
“Was it bad?” Clarence asked.
“It’s fine. I mean, as fine as a heart attack gets. They’ll probably have to do a stent or a balloon angioplasty, but those are pretty routine.”
“But there’s no one there with him.”
“Chuck will be there eventually and my old boyfriend, Pete, will watch over him,” I said.
“That’s not the same as family,” said Clarence.
I smiled at her. “No, it’s not. Nothing’s like family.”
“What will you do now?”
“I’m going to wash my hair and call my super snoop,” I said.
“Your what?”
“I have a hacker that’s pretty fantastic at finding things out.”
Did you hear that, Elizabeth? I’ll call him.
She must’ve heard because I set down my phone and nothing happened. So I dunked my head and, when I came up, Clarence was heading for the door. “No!”
She jumped and slipped on the wet floor, falling with a thump on her rear. “Ouch!”
“Oh, Clarence. I’m sorry. I just…”
Happy now?
Maggie’s belongings tumbled back into her box while Clarence slipped around, trying to get to her feet. Fats dashed in and yanked her upright. “What happened in here?”
“Nothing,” said Clarence. “I slipped.”
I gave Fats the something-freaking-happened look and she took Clarence out of the bathroom, saying she needed to change her wet skirt. They went back and forth about I don’t know what while I washed my hair and didn’t bother to condition. I’d pay for that.
As soon as I stepped out of the tub the music started again.
“Twas in the merry month of May when green buds all were swelling.”
It was soft this time, a little reminder that Elizabeth hadn’t forgotten. I dried off and wrapped the towel around me before picking up the phone. The music stopped just when the story was getting good. I was tempted to set it down to see if Sweet William died, but I didn’t for fear that the Battle Hymn would come back blaring.
In the bedroom, Fats had Clarence changed and was shooing her out of the door.
“There’s nothing I can do?” Clarence asked.
I smiled reassuringly at her. “Can you check on dinner? I’m starving.”
The little nun grinned and said she would.
Fats closed the door and said, “Alright. Let’s have it.”
“Go have a shower. You’re dripping.”
“I worked out. You should try it.”
“Pass,” I said. “The way you look right now is not a good advertisement.”
Fats popped a toothpick out on her lip. She must store them in her cheek like a giant hamster. “So?”
I folded the top of Maggie’s box together and put it in the enormous Victorian wardrobe. “So I have to call Spidermonkey.”
“That’s it? You skipped conditioner for that?” Fats never skipped conditioner or manicures or shaving her legs. I, on the other hand, was hairy with snarled hair and chipped nails.
“I may have had a little trouble with Elizabeth,” I said.
She gave me the stink eye. “Define trouble.”
“She spoke to me.”
Fats threw up her hands. “You have to follow the rules. What did you do?”
“I don’t know. Nobody told me the rules, except don’t be interesting.”
“Well, you can’t do that,” she said.
“I know.”
Something rustled in the wardrobe and we both turned our heads to look, slowly like you see people do in movies.
“Do you know what that is?” Fats asked.
“Probably,” I said.
“Do I want to know?”
“Hard to say.”
“Have you had your own coronary event?” she asked.
“Two or three.”
Fats chewed on her toothpick and said, “I say we leave it.”
“Good call.” I opened my duffle and pulled out some leggings my mom had secretly tried to throw out because the knees were all baggy. “Are you going to turn your back?” I asked.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Well, go ahead.”
“What’s going to happen?” Fats asked.
“Beats me. Probably nothing.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
Bummer. ‘Cause Elizabeth does.
“I’m right there with you.”
“I’m going in,” said Fats, but she didn’t move.
“Go for it.”
Still no movement.
“Are you, Fats Licata, afraid?” I asked.
“I’m prudent. I don’t want to bring a knife to a gun fight,” she said.
“There’s no weaponry.”
“No?”
“Music and some other stuff, but no weapons.”
“All right then.” Fats went in the bathroom and shut the door. Fear vanquished. I wish I had that easy of a time coping with fear. My heart was still pounding and my cortisol levels had to be through the roof.
The shower started running and I got dressed quickly as the wardrobe doors rattled. “I’m hurrying. Give me a break.”
“No,” said the voice.
“Awesome. That’s swell.”
Nothing. I’d say that was good, but the Battle Hymn started up so it really wasn’t.
I have to get out of here.
“No,” said the voice.
“I don’t like you,” I said.
“I know.”
I sat on my little twin bed and tried to unsnarl my hair while calling Spidermonkey. The second the phone began ringing the music and the wardrobe rattling stopped.
“Mercy?” Spidermonkey asked. “Thank God it’s you.”
“Really?”
“Hold on,” said my hacker. “I have to take this.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
What was going on was Spidermonkey and Loretta were trapped in South Carolina on Sullivan’s Island during a tropical storm. It wasn’t bad enough to leave, but no fun to stay. Think twenty-four hours a day with family for a week with nothing to do but board games and Netflix. Spidermonkey loved his family, but he was this close to crazy. There were babies. A lot of babies and they all had great lungs.
“I do love them,” he said.
“I believe you.”
“Help me.”
“I don’t think I can actually get you out of there,” I said.
“You can give me something to do,” he said. “You’re the only one Loretta will allow. I’ve been praying you’d call.”
“I have got something for you, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’d pay you to interrupt. Another baby’s crying. I don’t remember our babies crying like that.”
“Were you really around that much?” I asked, thinking of my dad.
“I guess not. What have you got? Oh, wait. Hold on,” said Spidermonkey.
“Mercy, it’s Loretta. Tell me you need us and we have to leave.”
A laugh bubbled up out of my incredibly tight chest and I let it loose. The wardrobe wasn’t so scary anymore. Neither was the music or the voice. It could be worse. Loretta’s voice assured me of that.
“You, too? Aren’t you Mom? Mom’s love this family stuff,” I said after I stopped laughing.
“My daughters-in-law are fighting about vaccines again and they’re on the same side.”
“Anti-vaxxers?”
“Yes. It’s insane. Dillon is fifteen. He isn’t going to get autism.”
“I’m with you,” I said.
The clinic had dealt with their share of anti-vaxxers and it was nuts. I’ve never seen so much fear about the wrong things. Measles kills people. It does. Fact.
Loretta harrumphed and said, “They were vaccinated and they’re fine. What the crap?”
“I don’t know. It’s a thing right now.”
“Maybe you can talk to them.”
Not just no, but hell no.
“I’ll just tell them they’re crazy and should vaccinate their spawn.”
Loretta started laughing and told Spidermonkey about the spawn.
“Thank you. I needed that. Now what can we do for you?” asked Loretta.
“Are you sure? It’s dark,” I said.
“Isn’t it all?”
She wasn’t wrong, but Maggie’s death was worse. I could feel the horror in my skin, a sort of an unhappiness shroud of worry and dread. This wasn’t a small time crime and I couldn’t imagine how anyone, even a drunk, would say that.
“This is different.”
“If it’s about a child, then I can’t hear this,” said Loretta.
“No child victims.”
“And it’s not to do with The Klinefeld Group?”
“No, but I have something new about Stella,” I said.
Spidermonkey took the phone, sounding grumpy. “I’ve been waiting for you to contact me about that.”
“You told me not to.”
“The landscape is different.”
“You mean rainy.”
“And angry. The girls are talking about peanut allergies now,” said Spidermonkey.
“Does someone have one?” I asked.
“No, but it sounds like they want one of the kids to have it so they can be in the in-crowd.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“This is your generation.”
“Do not lump me in with anti-vaxxers. That’s a low blow,” I said. “I’m vaccinated and if I were to spawn, my kid would be, too.”
Spidermonkey’s soft South Carolina accent began to purr and soothe. “I know you’re reasonable, even when you’re not being reasonable.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I don’t understand you and the risks you take,” he said. “Okay. I’ve locked the door and my laptops are ready. Let’s start with why you aren’t using Morty for this.”
“He had a heart attack.”
And the typing began. With a vengeance.