Antiques Flee Market (19 page)

“Yeah, well, ‘e’s goin’ to college now, innit? An’ I want ’im to look the part. First rule of actin’, your ol’ lady says.”

That explained the Tommy Hilfiger clothes. “That’s great!” I said, pleasantly surprised. “Where? Studying what?”

Ben grinned. “Community college…night classes mostly. I want to run my own auto-parts business.”

“That’s really swell.” I looked at Chaz. “And what are your plans? After the play, I mean….”

The girl screwed up her face in that adorable way. “Well, I can’t say jus’ yet…be busy with the new ’ouse, for starts, innit?”

My eyebrows went up. “You’ve bought a home?”

Ben said excitedly, “Chaz sold her trailer, and I sold mine, and we’re gettin’ a new double-wide.”

I looked at the beaming pair and wondered if I’d ever been that happy.

“An’,” Chaz interjected, “with the money we got from peddlin’ the Ape Man book, we can fix up the caravan super nice!”

Mother had sneaked up beside us. “How
much
did you get?” she demanded, then, “I
wish
you’d consulted me, my dear!”

Mother often felt strongly proprietorial about things that were in no way hers.

Chaz tossed her head back. “Naw, Miz Borne, we got it sorted proper—forty thousand dollars! An’ you know ’oo bought it?”

Mother and I shook our heads.

“That nasty bloke from the flea market!”

Mother gasped, “Not Harry Potthoff?”

Chaz nodded. “The very one. ’E’s got a posh wife, now, yeah? Filthy rich, she is, and a right collector of books and that. And he ponied up the cash right and proper, or anyway
she
did.”

Apparently, Pudgy had also been scouting for a well-heeled wife.

Mother said grudgingly, “Well, you seem to have done adequately, my dear…but I’m sure a better price may have been possible if—”

I interrupted, “Why don’t we let Chaz and Ben mingle, Mother. I’m sure there are other guests who’d like to offer their congratulations on Chaz’s star turn.”

And I took Mother by the arm and led her a few steps away.

“Let it go, Mother,” I whispered. “What’s done is done.”

She went tsk-tsk. “Yes, I suppose—money under the bridge. But I
could
have gotten them
much
more, I’m sure of it! Why don’t people ever learn to listen to me?”

“I’ll get back to you on that. Just don’t make trouble for those two. They’re happy as clams.”

She sighed deeply. “All right, dear. I’ll let
this
one go. But remember—the clams in
Alice in Wonderland
were happy, too, and look what happened to them!”

Then Mother shifted into her hostess-with-the-mostest persona, flitting over to a group of new arrivals, and I disappeared into the kitchen to do a little scullery maid duty.

Noticing that we were out of clean glasses, I was standing on tippy-toes to reach some on the top shelf of a cupboard when an extra pair of hands appeared to help me out, and a male voice said, “Let me get those.”

I turned to see Tony Cassato, his black trench coat unbuttoned, revealing a crisply pressed blue shirt and gold tie.

Surprised by his presence, I could only manage, “Thanks.”

“Where do you want these?” he asked.

“On the counter’s fine.”

The chief set the glasses down.

I said, “Nice of you to come to the play.”

“It was fun.”

“Right—particularly when Mother got run over.”

He gave up a smile.

“Does your stopping by mean you’re speaking to her again?” I asked.

He twitched a tiny smirk. “Yeah. I find it’s better to keep the lines of communication open, where Vivian Borne is concerned.”

“Ah—you’re learning.”

An awkward silence followed; then Tony cleared his throat. “I just dropped by to say…” He paused, looking uncomfortable, and I felt a quick chill, wondering if new charges were going to be filed against Mother.

“…I’m sorry about you and Brian.”

This was an incredibly un-chieflike thing for the chief to say; he had never even acknowledged that Brian and I were seeing each other.

I said, “You heard we broke up?”

“It’s a small station. Word travels fast.”

“Well, in Brian’s defense—”

But Tony cut me off. “You don’t have to tell me the details. Frankly, I prefer you wouldn’t.”

“Hey, he didn’t just drop me, no matter what the department rumor mill says. He had a perfectly good reason.”

“Hard to think what that could be.”

That was a compliment of sorts, but I was on the spot. It was perfectly possible Brian hadn’t told the chief about his personal situation, and that he’d be running in and out of state on his days off for a while. And it wasn’t my place to tell him.

I plastered on a smile and tried to sidestep. “I wouldn’t think who one of your officers was going out with, or not, would even get on your radar.”

“Yes. Yes, it did. It’s just that….” Taciturn Tony was having trouble finding the right words. How the hell did he pull off interrogations, anyway?

He tried again. “I always like to know about anything that might affect the work of my men, who’re out on the line every day.”

Suddenly, I was pretty sure it wasn’t Brian’s welfare he was really interested in….

Okay, I thought. Let’s see how supportive the chief really is.

I said, “You may as well know something else—it’ll be all over town soon—but my best friend’s fighting cancer and she and her husband can’t have kids. So I’m going to be a surrogate mother for them.”

Funny. I could never have told Brian that in such a straightforward way.

Tony was nodding, saying, “Well, great. Well, that’s great.”

I smiled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

Mother flounced into the kitchen. Her face went from startled, to pleased, to smug in five seconds. “Oh, dear me…I didn’t mean to intrude!”

And she traipsed out again.

Tony asked, “What was
that
about?”

I laughed a little. “Don’t pay any attention to Mother. She has this wild idea that you and I might get together someday, and then she’d have access to all
kinds
of confidential information.”

“Is that right?” he said with a one-sided smirk.

“I’m mentioning this so you won’t get caught up in her matchmaking web.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment, then, “What if I don’t mind?”

I stared.

“What I mean to say is,” the chief said quickly, just a shade of embarrassment in his tone, “I really wouldn’t mind, Brandy, if you and I were friends and not just acquaintances.”

“Uhhh, I thought we
were
friends.”

He nodded. “Good.”

I nodded. “Fine.”

What was
that
all about?

Tony shifted awkwardly, “Well. I guess I should be going.”

I thanked him for coming to the cast party, and he nodded again, then left.

My mind whirling, I watched Tony weave his way through the crowd to the front door.

Was Mother right?
Was
Tony Cassato “sweet” on me?

Impossible.

And even if he were, a romantic relationship with the chief of police was one place I could not go. Mother would be absolutely intolerable! We’d be looking into every Serenity crime from shoplifting on up.

Peggy Sue entered the kitchen. She was wearing beige woolen slacks with a matching sweater set that I recognized from the winter Ralph Lauren collection.

Sis said, “You look beat, Brandy. Why don’t you let me take over in here?”

Another shock. Peggy Sue, rolling up her cashmere sleeves to do dishes? When exactly had I gone through the City on the Edge of Forever portal into the alternate Brandy universe?

I asked, “What’s Mother doing?”

“Enthralling her friends from the Red-Hatted League in the music room with the gruesome details of your latest case.”

I grunted. “The party could go on all night….”

As Peggy Sue replaced me at the sink, I ventured, “Peg….”

Since I rarely called her that, she turned to look at me with interest. “What is it, Brandy?”

And I told her the whole spiel about the baby thing.

At the end, Sis raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows and said, “I would never under any circumstances do that to
my
body…but then, we’re different, aren’t we? So you have my blessing.”

Not that I needed it; still, it did make things easier between us.

I said, “I have the first in-vitro procedure next month.” Then I warned her, “So you know there’s bound to be talk.”

Peggy Sue knew I was referring to her prized and protected social standing taking a hit because of her wayward sister, but again she surprised me.

“If my friends don’t like it,” she stated flatly, “then they’re not really my friends, are they?”

“Could you go down to the basement with me?”

“Why?”

“I want to check and see if your pod is down there.”

She laughed and so did I.

It looked like Peggy Sue and I really
were
going to have a different relationship now. Free of hostility and secrets.

“Thanks, Sis,” I said, patting her arm.

Then she did something truly astounding: She kissed my cheek.

Upstairs, I found Sushi asleep on top of my bedcovers; the commotion of the party had been too much for her. She’d started out the evening yapping and dancing and yapping and dancing, but now she was spent. I kissed her furry little face, and she rolled over for me to scratch her soft tummy.

Also on the bed was my mail from the past few days, which a whimsical Mother had placed on a silver platter, because they were mostly bills. One letter, however, wasn’t an IOU. It came in a plain white envelope with no return address and my name and address computer-printed.

I smirked. So, evil Connie Grimes was sending me a
second
poison-pen letter about Peggy Sue being my real mother, because the first one hadn’t created the expected fireworks.

I tossed it in the corner wastebasket.

Then I had a second thought: I’d mail the damned thing back to her. I’d love to see her face, then!

I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the envelope, and the familiar typed words sprang forward:
WOULDN’T YOU LIKE TO KNOW
…

Only the last part of the sentence was completely different.

…
THAT YOUR REAL FATHER IS A SENATOR?

I sprang from the bed, ran out into the hallway, and screamed, “
Peggy Sue!
”

Stay tuned.

A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip

When acquiring antiques as an investment, remember that the most valuable collections are the ones gathered through love and commitment. If you try to anticipate what will be collectible tomorrow, today you will fail. (Anybody want to buy a box of pet rocks?)

is the joint pseudonym for husband-and-wife mystery writers Barbara and Max Allan Collins.

BARBARA COLLINS
is one of the most respected short story writers in the mystery field, with appearances in over a dozen top anthologies, including
Murder Most Delicious, Women on the Edge, Deadly Housewives
, and the best-selling
Cat Crimes
series. She was the coeditor of (and a contributor to) the best-selling anthology
Lethal Ladies
, and her stories were selected for inclusion in the first three volumes of
The Year’s 25 Finest Crime and Mystery Stories
.

Two acclaimed hardcover collections of her work have been published—
Too Many Tomcats
and (with her husband)
Murder—His and Hers
. The Collins’s first novel together, the Baby Boomer thriller
Regeneration
, was a paperback bestseller; their second collaborative novel,
Bombshell
—in which Marilyn Monroe saves the world from World War III—was published in hardcover to excellent reviews.

Barbara has been the production manager and/or line producer on
Mommy, Mommy’s Day, Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market, Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life
, and other independent film projects emanating from the production company she and her husband jointly run.

MAX ALLAN COLLINS,
a five-time Mystery Writers of America “Edgar” nominee in both fiction and nonfiction categories, has been hailed as “the Renaissance man of mystery fiction.” He has earned an unprecedented fourteen Private Eye Writers of America “Shamus” nominations for his historical thrillers, winning twice for his Nathan Heller novels,
True Detective
(1983) and
Stolen Away
(1991), and was recently presented with the Eye, the Private Eye Writers of America’s Lifetime Achievement Award.

His other credits include film criticism, short fiction, songwriting, trading-card sets, and movie/TV tie-in novels, including
Air Force One, In the Line of Fire
, and the
New York Times
best sellers
Saving Private Ryan
and
American Gangster
. Currently he is writing a series of novels for the top-ten hit TV series
Criminal Minds
.

His graphic novel
Road to Perdition
is the basis of the Academy Award-winning DreamWorks feature film starring Tom Hanks, Paul Newman, and Jude Law, directed by Sam Mendes. Max’s many comics credits include the “Dick Tracy” syndicated strip (1977–1993); his own “Ms. Tree” “Batman” and “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation,” based on the hit TV series, for which he has also written six video games and an internationally best-selling series of novels.

One of the most acclaimed and award-winning independent filmmakers in the Midwest, he wrote and directed
Mommy
, premiering on Lifetime in 1996, as well as a 1997 sequel,
Mommy’s Day
. The screenwriter of
The Expert
, a 1995 HBO World Premiere, he wrote and directed the innovative made-for-DVD feature
Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market
(2000). A recent DVD boxed set of his films includes his award-winning documentary
Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane. Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life,
the film version of his Edgar-nominated play, has earned rave reviews and is available on DVD from VCI.

“BARBARA ALLAN” live(s) in Muscatine, Iowa, their Serenity-esque hometown; son Nathan graduated with honors in Japanese and computer science at the University of Iowa in nearby Iowa City, did post-graduate study in Japan, and now works in the video game industry, translating Japanese into English.