Sally's Bones (12 page)

Two months, twenty-eight days, three hours, and forty-four minutes earlier, Vivienne Vanderperfect stood atop Hope Hill Cemetery, towering over her dead friend's grave. “Sorry Patty, but it's my turn now,” she whispered through tightly clenched teeth. “It's my Viola shining in the spotlight, my daughter that no one will ignore. Your reign is over. Let the age of the Vanderperfects begin!” Thunder cracked, and a light rain began to fall. Vivienne laughed.

“Oh, what do you care?” She hollered to the headstones and the trees. “It's not as though you produced a worthy heir! I mean, really, Patty. Your Sally is a bit of a disappointment, wouldn't you say? I was ready for some competition, but that little freak you raised…well, let's just say I'm not quaking or shaking!”

Lightning streaked through the sky, followed by another blast of thunder.

“Not to worry, old friend,” Vivienne assured. “My Vi will be a benevolent ruler, so long as your Sally stays in her place. There's plenty of room for her in the shadows.” She kicked a pebble against Patty's headstone. “I should know. Thanks to you, I lived there for a very long time.”

The spitting mist turned to heavy rain, and Vivienne pulled the hood of her black rain poncho over her head. “All right, all right. I can take a hint. I'll leave you to eternity. Enjoy yourself six feet under, while I finally savor the view from up top. I just wanted you to know that all those years I pretended to be your friend, all those times I stood nobly by your side are over. It's my turn now. My turn to shi—”

Out of the corner of her eye, Vivienne spied a skinny, wet figure trudging up the hill. Though she hated being interrupted in the final moments of her victory speech, she was curious to see who else would visit the cemetery on this dark and stormy night.

Slipping into the shadows of a nearby mausoleum, Vivienne watched silently as Sally Simplesmith collapsed on her mother's grave and asked for death. She witnessed lightning hit the towering oak tree above but made no move to see whether or not Sally was all right. She was about to reveal herself when a skeleton creature, risen from the dead, appeared to attack the girl, but she froze in shock when she saw actual signs of friendship develop between the terrible twosome.

Yet of all the bizarre and disconcerting things she had witnessed that night, only one event was disturbing enough to stir Vivienne to action. As Sally and Bones prepared to head home, Patty Simplesmith's pathetic daughter said the single most dangerous thing Vivienne could ever have imagined.

You're special
,
Vivienne heard Sally tell her foul four-legged friend.
And for the first time in my life, I think I might be special too
.

“That was when I realized Sally Simplesmith had to be stopped,” Vivienne Vanderperfect now confessed. She sat in a crimson-upholstered chair at the far end of her living room as Officer Stu stood above her, jotting notes in his official police memo pad. Viola stared out the window at the dark, cold night, and the D.C. hovered uncomfortably by the door. Bones, Sally, and Seymour huddled together on a sofa across from the real bone thief.

Seymour Simplesmith had not stopped hugging his daughter or petting her dog since the family had been reunited after the discovery of Vivienne's stolen bones. As he sat listening to the confession of the woman who had framed his child, Seymour's grip tightened, and Sally had to pat his hand more than once to get him to loosen up.

“And what was it you needed to stop Sally from doing?” Officer Stu asked.

“Why from actually being special, of course,” Vivienne replied brightly. “Everything was fine when she was a miserable, pathetic little nobody. Viola was the most important girl in Merryland, and that was that. But when that little monster came along and Sally stopped being so extremely depressed and uninteresting, people began to notice her more and my Vi less.

“It was the same with Patty, you know.” She grimaced. “Nobody stood a chance when she was in the room. Of course, she never even noticed the effect she had. She was just so naturally charming and lovely.” Vivienne shook her head. “At least in Watta City I didn't have
that
to contend with. Too bad Sally has more of her mother in her than just the eyes.”

Mrs. Vanderperfect gestured for Stu to come closer, as if confiding in a sympathetic friend. “I tried sending Sally anonymous threatening notes, assuming she would have enough sense to keep her playmate under wraps, but I guess she's not as bright as her father.”

Seymour's body tensed, and Sally leaned into him, hoping he would remain calm.

“By the time the girls went to the Tone Death concert, the problem had gotten quite serious. That Sally stole all Viola's friends. Had them over to her house with promises of bootleg CDs and dead dog diversions—all of them except my poor Vi.”

Vivienne stared in her daughter's direction but seemed to look right through her. She did not see Viola at all. “It's a good thing I'd already taken action,” she continued. “Immediately following Viola's ruined birthday party, I called the pound and reported a perfectly crafted crime for which there could only be one suspect. And when I ran into Seymour at the concert, it didn't take much to get him to spill all the Simplesmith's secrets. He even told me about the abandoned shed at school! That's how I knew where to plant the evidence.”

Mr. Simplesmith looked at his daughter, shamefaced. Sally squeezed his hand to let him know it was all right.

“Of course, it was rather unpleasant, sneaking about in the middle of night, stealing already-chewed, sometimes even buried, animal bones,” Vivienne admitted. “But what other choice did I have? The way that little scene-stealer turned my elegant soiree into a three-ring circus, well, I determined to put an end to her right there.”

Sally shuddered as Vivienne snapped her head in the Simplesmiths' direction. “How could you, Sally? After I took pity on you, primed you to be Viola's second-in-command? It was more than someone like you could ever have hoped for, more than you deserved. But no. You had to be different, unique, your own girl. Well, good luck with that, honey,” Mrs. Vanderperfect snorted. “If it wasn't me this time, it'll be someone else the next. Someone will kill that spirit in you soon enough. You just wait and see. Your day will come, Sally Simplesmith. Your day will soon be—”

“That's enough,” a voice sighed from the corner. Sally knew it well; soft and lilting, pretty and singsong, even when it said some of the cruelest things on earth. But here, now, Viola Vanderperfect's sweet soprano was sad and tired. Sally beheld her former nemesis as she approached her mother.

“What was that?” Mrs. Vanderperfect asked.

“I said, you've done enough, Mom. Let's forget about the Simplesmiths and just be the Vanderperfects.” Viola kneeled at her mother's feet. “Nobody defines us, we make the rules, isn't that what you always say? So let's not worry about anyone else anymore. Let it go. Please? For me?”

Mrs. Vanderperfect cupped Viola's face in her hands. She leaned down as though about to kiss her daughter on the cheek, but she moved her lips to her ear instead. In a hissing whisper, she said, “For you? But I did this all for you. All of it. I can't believe this is the thanks I get.”

Disgusted, Vivienne tossed her daughter aside. Viola lost her balance and fell to the floor. “After everything I've put into you: the ballet classes, the etiquette lessons, the clothing allowance, the personal trainer. After all I've done to make you: as perfect as you can be, to see you accept quiet defeat at the hands of a freak-show nobody like Sally Simplesmith—well, it gets me right here, kid. It gets me right here.” Vivienne beat her breast as Viola gaped at her mother. “Oh, close your mouth, Vi. It's unbecoming.”

Mrs. Vanderperfect rose to her feet and paced the room. “We already moved once because you couldn't hack it. Always first runner up, never top prize. You floundered in the big pond, so I thought giving you a smaller one might fix things; that you'd finally become the great white shark I had always wanted.”

Vivienne glared at her child. “I guess I was wrong. You'll never be anything but a guppy.”

“All right, Mrs. Vanderperfect,” Officer Stu interjected uneasily. “I think we might be getting off track here. Why don't you and our dog-catching friend go into the kitchen, and we'll work out the details of how you're going to repay the town for the missing bones.” He motioned to the couch on which the Simplesmiths sat. “As for how you're going to make this up to Sally—”

“Make what up to whom?” Vivienne hooted. “This is all her fault, or haven't you been listening? Well, her fault and Viola's. If you think I'll ever…”

As Mrs. Vanderperfect geared up for another spectacular rant, Sally focused on Viola, who was slowly crossing the living room. She resumed her post by the window, once again staring blankly into the night sky.

“I don't want anything,” Sally said abruptly. Mrs. Vanderperfect glared at the girl who had interrupted her. “I mean, I don't want anything except Bones's and my names cleared. Other than that, I just want to go home.”

“Sally, are you sure?” asked Officer Stu.

She nodded.

“Well, then, how about a nice cup of tea, Mrs. Vanderperfect? And no, that's not a request.”

Vivienne made her displeasure known with a loud huff but exited the living room nonetheless. Officer Stu and the D.C. followed close behind. Sally's father gathered his things and held out his hand. “Sal? You ready to go?”

Sally looked at Viola, the girl who she had so long feared. She expected her to say something, but what did Sally want to hear? She didn't know, and Viola never said a word. She just continued staring silently out the window.

Sally turned to her father and smiled. “Yeah, Dad. I'm ready.”

Taking Seymour's hand, she scooped up Bones with her other arm. The canine corpse nestled into Sally's shoulder and softly kissed her neck. When they were halfway down the drive, Sally looked back at the house and found the living room window at which Viola had sat. No one was there.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered to the empty, black night.

And then, he just came back to life. I'm not kidding, Patty. We were sure Lance was a goner but, poof, there he was, flying around and nibbling on an apple core like he hadn't just flown into a lightning trap.” Seymour Simplesmith kneeled beside his wife's grave. His daughter leaned on a nearby headstone, and her skeleton dog sunned himself at her feet.

“Come on, Dad. It's three o'clock already. The hot dog guy is usually gone by three fifteen, and I have to be at Chati's for dinner at seven,” Sally said impatiently.

“All right, all right,” her father conceded. “I just wanted to make sure your mom was up to date on everything at the lab.”

“Well, if you've forgotten anything, which I highly doubt, you can tell her next week. Trust me,” Sally deadpanned. “She's not going anywhere.”

“Har har, Sal,” Mr. Simplesmith teased. “It's just that I've got a few years of missed visits to make up for. I've a lot to get in.”

Sally took her father's hand and held it tightly.

He squeezed back. “Blow your mom a kiss and let's go.”

Sally did as she was told and then watched her father do the same. “See you soon, Patty,” he whispered. “We love you.”

“Love you, Mom!” Sally added. She touched her finger to her nose and then placed it on her mother's mended headstone. Smiling, she skipped out of the cemetery.

“GGGgggruff!” Bones added as he raced to catch up.

The Simplesmith family walked down Hope Hill toward Lazarus Park, as had become their custom on recent Sundays. When they reached Shepherd's Green, it was packed with families picnicking, kids throwing Frisbees, and more than one pickup game of hacky sack.

“Dad, over there,” Sally said and pointed at an empty patch of grass under a dogwood tree.

“Why don't you put down the blanket, and I'll grab the grub. Ketchup and sauerkraut?” Her father asked.

“Don't forget the mustard,” Sally added. “I want mustard too.”

“You've got it, kiddo.” Mr. Simplesmith winked at his daughter before jogging off to find the vendor.

Sally and Bones claimed their spot under the dogwood and spread out their blanket; Bones held one corner in his teeth while Sally fluffed and smoothed the other three. Though the tree provided little shade, Sally was more than happy to bask in the sunshine that was reflective of her current mood.

“It's funny, Bones,” she said to her devoted pup as he snuggled next to her. “I always thought of myself as more of a winter or fall kind of girl. But there's something to this spring thing. It certainly makes visiting the cemetery a bit more lively.”

Sally chuckled at her own joke, but Bones ignored her. He walked to the edge of the blanket and began to growl. “Geesh. This is some of my best material here. Give a girl a—”

“Grwof,” Bones said quietly as he gestured with his snout toward the far end of the green. There was the D.C., standing alongside his blindingly white van, barking orders at a worker who was hunched over, picking something up from the ground.

“Hey,” said Sally. “Is that—” she gasped and covered her mouth. The D.C.'s worker bee was none other than Vivienne Vanderperfect. “And it looks like she's on pooper-scooper duty! Barf!”

Bones panted, while Sally tried very hard not to laugh. “We really should be more forgiving, Bones,” she scolded. “We should not revel in someone else's misfortune.”

Bones closed his mouth and drooped his ears. He looked at Sally, ashamed.

“Starting tomorrow, that is.” She giggled and threw her arms out for her puppy. He leapt into them with staggering force and knocked Sally on her back.

The pair was still laughing when a wayward Frisbee sailed onto their blanket. Bones scooped it up in his mouth and dropped his chest and front paws to the ground. He stuck his backside high in the air and wagged his tail furiously.

“Nice downward dog,” an approaching voice trilled. Sally jumped up to receive their visitor.

“Oh, um, sorry about that, Viola,” she said, sounding more nervous than she would have liked. “That's the universal dog sign for ‘let's play.'”

“Princess Poopsy does the same thing,” Viola offered.

“Cool,” said Sally. Both girls looked awkwardly around the green. Sally accidentally glanced at the sun. She winced and stumbled a couple of steps to her left.

“Are you all right?” Viola asked, reaching out an arm to help.

“Yeah. Just stupidly blinded myself,” Sally laughed as she regained her balance.

“I've done that before,” Viola admitted, crossing her arms behind her back.

“Huh,” Sally replied. She couldn't think of what to say next.

Bones regarded the painfully mute girls. He growled to let them know he was beginning to get bored.

“Oh, right.” Sally snapped to. “Bones, give Viola back her Frisbee.”

“Grwof,” he replied, still holding the toy tightly in his mouth. He wiggled his high butt.

“Bones, come on,” Sally commanded, but when she moved toward him, her disobedient dog darted just beyond her reach. “Awesome,” Sally sighed. Viola laughed and kneeled on the blanket.

“Bones, I know we've had our differences in the past, but may I please have the Frisbee back?” she asked, not unkindly. “You see it's not actually mine, but the people I was playing with were too scared to come over and ask for it themselves.”

Bones moved from playful stance to a sit. His ears drooped and he wrinkled his brow.

“I agree. They're pretty lame,” Viola told him. “So if you want to keep the Frisbee, be my guest.” She glanced at Sally, who hovered above them. “But, if you want to give it back and show those dorks that you're a pretty classy little guy and that they're the weird ones, I'd be down with that too. The choice is yours.”

Bones looked to Sally, who nodded. He dropped the Frisbee. Viola picked it up and fearlessly stroked the top of his head. “Thanks, Bones,” she said and stood to face Sally.

“So, bye,” Viola said. She half waved, then played with her hair instead.

“Yeah. See ya,” said Sally. She smiled as Viola walked away.

Plopping down on the blanket, Sally leaned against the dogwood tree. She crossed her legs, and Bones crawled into her lap.

Nearby there was a sudden commotion, followed by the frightened cries of a young child. “Help!” a little boy wailed from a picnic bench. “My mommy's been stolen!”

Sally and Bones looked at each other. Though they had not discussed making a habit of their detective work, they were both quite proud of how well their first case had turned out. In silent agreement, they turned in the direction of the crying child, ready to offer their services. But when they looked again, they saw that he was already wrapped in his found mother's embrace.

“Maybe next time,” Sally said.

“Grruff,” Bones agreed as he settled back into her lap.

Closing her eyes, Sally inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, Bones was looking up at her. Grinning at her dead dog, she leaned in and wiggled her nose against his snout.

Together, they watched the people of Merryland enjoy a bright, sunny Sunday. Sally felt Bones's tail wag like a metronome in her lap. Her cheeks began to hurt from the wide smile that was etched on her face, but it was nothing to complain about. It was the type of pain she was happy to live with.