Sandy Gingras - Lola Polenta 01 - Swamped (30 page)

“So why didn’t you say anything about this conversation before?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“When you left, Fred was coming up the driveway?”

“He saw me. Fred saw that Ernie was alive after I left. Ask Fred. I never killed Ernie.”

I walk over to Fred and Feather’s place. Fred is sober. Feather is tottering about in the kitchen.

Their trailer is furnished ultra-modern. All white and glass. Immaculate. Fred is watching TV. He looks at me blankly like he can’t remember who I am for a second. “Can I talk to you about Ernie?” I ask him.

“Why? I’ve told everything I know to the police, Linda.”

“Lola,” I say. “I know you went to see him the night he died.”

“What?” he says.

“Yup,” I tell him.

“Hmmm,” he says. “Listen, it wasn’t anything. I didn’t kill him. I was just sick and tired of the little worm pressuring me. I wanted to tell him to stick it. I don’t know if anyone ever stood up to him before. He was so slippery. But when I told him, ‘Go ahead, tell all,’ I meant it. ‘Talk till you’re blue in the face,’ I told him. We’re moving out anyway… We’re going to buy a condo on Pelican Bay. This was Feather’s mom’s place and she wanted to give it a try, but we need a new start.” He glances back at Feather. “We’re moving as soon as we can sell this place.”

“Then what did you do after you left Ernie?”

“I came home. I watched TV.”

“Did you nap?”

“I might have closed my eyes.”

“So Ernie was alive when you left him?”

“Of course,” Fred says.

I’m going out the door when Feather says, “You live next door to Miss Tilney, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Can you let her know that the cowhide belt she was asking for, well, I don’t have it anymore. She wanted to borrow it and wear it to the dance. She was inquiring…,” she says. She cracks an ice cube tray and a couple ice cubes jump out and go skittering across the floor.

“Oh, was it one of those brown and white ones?” I ask.

“Just tell her I don’t have it anymore,” she says.

I walk home. I call Joe. “Tell everyone I’m okay,” I say.

My mother is sitting in my trailer knitting. She taken to coming over here while my father is working. She says she finds it “more restful” than my father’s condo.

“I don’t know what to do next,” I tell her.

“Why don’t you call your father?”

“My father?”

My mother looks at me. “He just worries about you, that’s all. Deep down inside he’s proud of you. This is hard for him, but he seems happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Happy? What are you two all buddy-buddy back together again?” I ask. I know I sound mean.

“I don’t know what we are, Lola. We are different together down here. Or maybe we’ve both changed. I actually find your father kind of… fun now. I mean, his heart. Well, he’s different.”

“I find him exactly the same noodge he always was.”

The needles click along. My mother is almost impossible to provoke. It used to drive me crazy as a teenager. I would make myself perform feats of pure awfulness just to get a rise out of her. “Remember what a bad teenager I was?” I ask her.

“Not really bad,” she says, “Just needy.”

“Needy?” I say. “More like rebellious.”

She nods and knits. “I know it would mean a lot to him if you called him,” she says.

“Mean a lot?” I say. I laugh.

She doesn’t laugh along. She has her pink half glasses on. She looks at me over the top of them.

“What am I going to say?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “Just reach out,” she says.

“Dad?” I call him.

“Yes?”

“About this whole Ernie thing…” I tell him all the recent developments. “I think they all could be lying,” I say. “What if Richie came back and killed Ernie. What if Fred killed him? What if Sal did? They were all there and could have come back.

“Why don’t you let the cops handle it? I think they have a grip on the situation. Dave Johansen is a good cop.”

“But Richie and Susie are leaving. I can’t just let them go.”

“Let them go,” he says. “The cops will handle it.”

“What if Feather really does have a cowhide belt?”

“Could be nothing. Stay out of the way.”

This is the thing with my father and me. He tells me no, but I can hear the yes… the go for it… the cop voice behind it. I wonder how frustrating it is for him not to be a cop anymore.

Chapter 53

“They’re packing,” Miss Tilney says. My phone rings right after I hang up with my father.

“Who?” I ask.

“Richie and Susie.”

“They’re going to Disney,” I say.

“Do you take pictures off your walls when you go on vacation?”

I pause. “Were you looking in their window?”

“Of course. Someone’s got to do some detecting around here.”

“Where are you now?”

“I came home to get my black sweatshirt. I could use some camo.”

“Camo?”

“It has a hood,” she tells me.

“Stay home. I’ll go check it out. Oh, and Feather says to tell you she doesn’t have her cowhide belt anymore. Why didn’t you tell me she had one?”

“Missy Blake just told me the other day. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it was true. Missy has a touch of Alzheimer’s. Some days, she thinks she’s Cleopatra and does her eye liner all the way out to her ears. Plus, you don’t let me do anything around here.”

She should talk about eye make-up. I say, “Well, Feather says she doesn’t have it anymore.”

“That’s what she says…,”

I hang up the phone. My mother says, “What now?”

“Miss Tilney saw Richie and Susie packing their photographs. I’m going to talk to them again.”

“Oh dear,” my mother says. “Shouldn’t you call the police?”

“And tell them what? They’re packing to go on vacation. I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“Oh dear,” she says again.

“All right,” I say. I call and leave a message for Detective Johansen at the station. I don’t really want to talk to him. I say Susie and Richie are taking pictures off their walls and packing. I tell him Feather had a cowhide belt, but now, she says she doesn’t. It’s short and sweet.

My mother nods uncertainly and wraps her arms around her chest.

Ten minutes later, I’m in a bush looking in Susie and Richie’s living room window. Any second now, a tarantula could crawl onto me. I try to pretend I’m a rock or a branch—something inedible. There ARE a couple blank spots on their wall of photographs, but everything else looks normal.

“They’re in the bedroom,” a voice whispers.

“Ah!” I jump.

“What kind of watchdog is that?” she asks pointing to Dreamer. “I snuck right up on you and your dog didn’t even give you a warning woof.”

“She knows you.”

Miss Tilney’s got black leggings on and a black hoodie tied tightly around her face. Even her eyebrows are black. She looks like a big black ant.

“What’s that stuff on your face,” I whisper.

“I smeared mascara on my cheeks.”

I look at her.

“Cuts reflection,” she tells me.

I shake my head. “What are you DOING here?”

“More than you are. You’re looking at an empty room.”

I can’t say anything because she’s right. Just then Richie and Susie come back into the living room. I duck. Miss Tilney takes a step back. “Why are you shaking?” she asks me.

“I don’t like suspense,” I tell her. “This is the part in the movie when I always close my eyes.”

“Your dog is shaking too.”

“When I get nervous, she gets nervous.”

“That’s weird,” she whispers.

“Ssh,” I tell her. But already the front door is opening and Richie is looking out. “Who’s there?” he says peering toward our bush. He takes a few steps toward us.

“Stay here, “I tell Miss Tilney. I pop out of the bush calling, “Here Dreamer, here girl…”

“What are you doing in my yard?”

“I lost my dog.”

“She’s right behind you.”

“Oh, there she is.” I give her a pat. “Where WERE you?”

Richie glares at me.

“Packing up for your trip?” I say.

“That’s right,” he tells me.

“Going by, it looked like you were taking photographs off the walls.”

“Susie does that all the time. She likes to rearrange them.”

“Who’s there?” Susie comes to the door. “What were you doing looking in our window?”

“I wasn’t.”

“I saw you.”

“She was looking for her dog,” Richie tells his wife. Dreamer looks up at me. I take a deep breath.

“I think you’re lying,” I tell Richie.

He looks at me.

“I think you DO have a phony investment firm. I think you’re taking all these retired people’s money and running.” This revs me up. I’m getting mad now.

“Listen,” Richie says. “I can see that you’re upset. Let me show you what the firm is doing real quick, and I think your fears will be allayed.” He’s really a very smooth talker. Who calls themselves “the firm?” Allayed? Who says that? Still, I can see why some people would give him their money.

“Come on in,” he says.

“Don’t let her in,” Susie says.

“It’s okay Susie,” Richie says.

“But we don’t allow dogs in our home,” Susie says.

“Stay,” I tell Dreamer and leave her on the porch. I know Miss Tilney will keep an eye on her. I follow Richie inside. It is a miniature version of Dick and Gladys’ house. It feels like déjà vu, just a little smaller.

He goes to his desk. He gets a bunch of papers and a file out. He tells me, “Sit down and make yourself at home.” I sit down at a kitchen table with dolphin legs.

And then I don’t remember what happens next. But I know now that Susie hit me on the head with a pot, because when I wake up, I’m duct taped to their kitchen chair. There’s a sock stuffed in my mouth and it’s not a clean sock. It tastes awful—like Richie played eighteen holes of golf in it. Yuck, I think. The room is kind of swimmy and my head is killing me. I think I might throw up.

Richie and Susie are standing in front of me with their suitcases. “Should I hit her again?” Susie asks.

“You shouldn’t have hit her the first time.”

“By the time someone finds you, we’ll be long gone,” Susie tells me.

“Shhf,” I say.

I get a bad feeling they’re not going to Disney world. “C’mon Richie,” Susie says. They trundle over to the door. Both have two large suitcases.

“Hhlll,” I say. “Hhlll.” But to no avail. They go out the door. I hear voices. I squirm in my chair. They really taped me in. I can barely feel my hands and feet. Then I hear a scream and a thump. There’s a flop sound. Next minute, Miss Tilney and Joe and Dreamer are at the door. “Hlpt!” I say.

Miss Tilney finds some scissors in a drawer and starts snipping the tape. Joe works on the tape on my mouth. Dreamer licks my hands. Miss Tilney says, “I wonder where the cops are. Good thing Joe answered his phone.”

“Good thing Squirt leant you the scorpion gun,” he tells her.

“Orp?” I say. I have to get this sock out of my mouth. It’s awful.

Miss Tilney frees my hands. She says, “That’s right. Squirt had to go home. Her wuss of a husband picked her up. He was hungry. He said he needed his dinner. Squirt was so mad, I thought she was going to smack him. But she didn’t. She got in the car.”

“Pffft.” Miss Tilney dismisses her with a wave of her arm. “Some women…” She goes over to the window and peeks out. “She wouldn’t lend me her stun gun so I hit Susie with the scorpion gun, and Joe whacked Richie on the head with my oar. They’re both out cold on the stoop.”

“Orp?” I try to say again.

I hear sirens just as the tape is off my mouth. I spit out the sock. My tongue feels like leather. When the cops come in, I tell them, “They tied me up. They hit me on the head with a pot.”

“Looks more like an omelet pan,” Joe says, pointing to it on the counter.

Detective Johansen comes in along with the ambulance medics. “Everyone here okay?” he asks. We nod. He does a double take when he sees Miss Tilney in her ant outfit. She’s bouncing around on her toes in her black high-top sneakers.

He talks briefly to the two cops, and the ambulance takes Susie and Richie away. “You should go to the hospital, too, and get a scan done of your head,” he tells me.

“Where were you?” I ask. “I called you.”

“We were going to get them at the airport,” the detective says all official-like.

“Oh,” I say.

Joe sits down suddenly. He’s white and shaky. The detective gets one of Susie’s white throws off her couch and wraps it around Joe’s shoulders. “It’s the shock,” he tells Joe. “Did you ever knock somebody out before?”

“No,” Joe says.

“Take some deep breaths.”

Miss Tilney tells him, “Pop one of those heart pills you have.”

Joe fumbles in his shirt pocket and slides a little pill under his tongue. The detective glares at me. “What?” I say. “I told them to stay home.”

“We were waiting outside for you cops to show up,” Miss Tilney says. “But you weren’t there, and they were making a break for it. What were we supposed to do?”

“They didn’t get far,” Joe says, “Thanks mostly to your dog.” Joe reaches out and pats Dreamer. “She blocked their way on the sidewalk, almost tripped them so that Miss Tilney had enough time to scorpion gun Susie. I wouldn’t have hit Richie, but he started to run. I didn’t have time to think.”

He still looks pale but less shaky. “You hit him like a champ.” Miss Tilney pats Joe’s shoulder.

“Scorpion gun?” the detective asks as he gets Joe a glass of water.

“It’s Zoltan’s,” Miss Tilney says.

I roll my eyes.

“It’s a dart gun,” Joe says. The scorpion’s tail comes out of the back of the gun and it whips up and shoots a Nerf dart.”

“You knocked out Susie with a Nerf dart?” the detective asks Miss Tilney.

“I got her right in the forehead.”

“It was a good shot,” Joe adds.

“It knocked her out?” the detective asks again. He can’t get over it.

“Well, she fell over,” Joe says.

“I think she thought I shot her for real. I think she fainted,” Miss Tilney says. “It’s still suctioned to her forehead.”

“It has good suction,” Joe says.