Scavengers (4 page)

Scarf, putone down—you two will be a shoo-in.

From Molly, score the ticket to tap the win.

"French fries!” I screamed! “French fries—and that god forsaken cow/woman again!"

"That ‘really, really mad’ cow/woman."

"Why does none of this surprise me?"

After several stabs at possible solutions, we finally figured that the clue pointed us to French fries at Molly's Taphouse on Third. It was lunchtime, after all, and the maternal—for the moment—had usurped the infernal.

Not surprisingly, there were a couple of cars we recognized in the parking lot behind the bar. We had again been beaten to the punch, but we were still vertical—and a little less stuck in the muck.

We walked into the dimly lit room to find Laura and Holly laughing hysterically as they eavesdropped on the booth behind them. Laura motioned for us to sit with them, both simultaneously sliding over to make room. We sat and bent our ears, quickly detecting the voices of Susan and Maggie.

"Because I can't! I'm vegan. I'm not going to eat a cow!"

"Bet she'd eat granola,” Holly whispered, although “quietly yelled” might better describe, and we doubled over.

Laura kicked Holly under the table, and in reflex, she brought her knee up so hard that the silverware rattled and the saltshaker fell and rolled off the table. She groaned and made a feeble attempt to kick back but was overruled by a chorus of shushing from the rest of us.

"Come on, hon,” Susan said, “just step out of yourself for a moment. We already lost one round.

It won't kill you. The cow's dead already anyway."

"I'm vegan!"

This time, every patron in the place turned to stare. Maggie abruptly stood and prepared to storm out of the bar, her ideals in tow. Instinctively, I rose and blocked her exit. “Whoa,” I dared.

“Hang on a minute. There's got to be some way for you to complete the goal."

She didn't respond; rather, she hung her head low, and I could still sense movement within her, that running in place without forward motion.

"Why can't you eat the French fries, Maggie? Because of what they're fried in?"

At that, the hysterical laughter ensued again, but this time, it was directed at me.

I turned to the booth. “What? If they're fried in animal fat she can't eat them. Why is that funny?"

Holly stood and put her arm around my shoulders. “Um, did you solve the riddle? This has very little to do with French fries, unfortunately."

Laura handed Holly the menu, which she gleefully shoved in my face, her finger stabbing the top of the second page. “Mad Cow, chickie. A Mad Cow on a bed of French fries."

I read what she pointed at, so very much in shock that I was unable to speak.

"What? What is it, Kate?” Claudia begged.

"She's speechless,” Holly declared. “Allow me.” She read, “'Our Famous Mad Cow Burger will drive you mad or make you mad. Two and a half pounds of seasoned ground beef, smothered with over a pound of Cheddar cheese, lettuce, pickles, onions, and tomatoes, served on a specially-made bun, and stacked on a bed of our famous fries. Finish this mother-of-all-burgers in 30 minutes or less, and we'll pay your tab.’”

"Holy shit,” was all I could say. Claudia invoked a few holy names. Maggie's head still hung, and now I understood that it was with good reason.

"Everybody standing here,” I screeched, “swear on all that is dear to you, that we will get Ginny and Kris back for this if it's the last thing we do! Two and a half frickin’ pounds! Holy shit!"

Ever-thinking Claudia piped in, “I agree wholeheartedly with you, Kate, but I have a proposal. If this is supposed to be teamwork—one burger, one team—then Maggie, why don't you eat the fries, the veggies, and the bun? Susan can eat the burger."

"No way!” Susan defended from over the high-back booth. “Plain old hamburger—all by myself?"

Maggie's head suddenly reared, and she shot a look—one of those lethal ones—at Susan. “'Just step out of yourself for a moment! It won't kill you!'” she seethed.

Oh, those were fighting words. They were the prelude to justifiable homicide, even with a detective in our midst.

Everyone held their collective breath, waiting for whatever nasty thing was about to happen, when Susan, remarkably, said, “You're right, hon. Come on back. We'll do our best."

Laura snapped her fingers at the waitress zooming down the isle. “We need two more Mad Cows, please. One here,” she said, pointing, “and one for these guys."

Having ordered before anyone else, Laura and Holly got a head start on shoving pound after pound of burger down themselves. Sometime into it, I vowed never gain to eat another burger. I had lost a dear friend.

We were close to halfway there when the back door opened with an intrusive creak. Once the blindness—caused by a massive inpouring of daylight—eased, we saw Alison and Lisa making their way into the bar. Neither looked very pleased.

As if trying to avoid the awkward questions that came to everyone's minds, Laura again hailed the waitress. “These two ladies need a Mad Cow, too,” she said.

"Thanks, Laura,” Alison responded, as the two of them slid into a booth.

There was an awkward silence for a great many minutes, until I could stand it no longer.

"Did you guys get tripped up on the stupid violet riddle?” I asked, leaning out of the booth.

"That's one way to describe it,” Lisa snarled. “Not howI'd describe it, though."

"We didn't do so hot either,” I said, trying to shake off whatever I had just stepped in.

"No, that's not how she'd describe it,” Alison chimed in. “She'd say it was all my fault. She was right, and I was wrong."

"Youwere wrong! There isn't a goddamn state cow! She got us to some big ass cow statue. Said we needed to pose with it."

"Did you pose with it?” Holly dared. “I'd love to see the pic."

Lisa just stared blankly at her, and Holly mouthed back, “Well, I would."

Alison, heedless to the interruption, continued, “And you knew all along that is was a violet we were looking for? Is that what you're claiming?"

"Not at first—no.” she conceded.

"And when did it dawn on you, Lisa? Exactly when?"

"You know when."

"Tell us, then,” Alison furthered.

"When we finally cheated and went to the goddamn library and looked it up! Happy?"

"Not really."

Thank God for efficient waitresses! She hoisted the Mad Cow to the mad/cow women, and both Holly and I slid back into our respective booths.

After groaning and cussing and suddenly understanding the need for elastic waist pants, the six of us had finished. We congregated at the bar while waiting for our checks. Maggie suggested that perhaps we should all lend a hand (or another body part, specifically) and help Lisa and Alison finish up the task so that we'd all be back in the running again. Most of us thought that to be a fair idea, since this portion of the hunt seemed to put us all on the same team.

Laura walked to their table and offered our help.

Alison's jaw dropped, and she quickly responded, “That would be so—"

Before she could finish, however, Lisa said, “We don't need your help. Thanks."

"But, Lisa—” Alison pleaded.

"I said we don't need their help.” She stared at Alison in a way that hobbled her.

"Thanks anyway, guys.” she said apologetically.

We quietly paid our tabs, and as we did so, I spied Holly jotting something on a napkin. She handed it to Laura and asked her to slip it to Alison, saying that it was their cell phone number,

“in case she needs help."

Laura did so, without getting caught, and then we all headed out the back door. There, I heard, but did not utter, the f-bomb. I heard, but did not utter—even though I felt desperate to—the b-word.

"Okay, so what do we do now, girls?” Claudia asked. “About this game I mean. Do we all drive like maniacs and whoever gets there first is the winner?"

"I have a better idea,” Maggie said. “You guys helped me—us—more than you will ever know.

We joined forces, so here's what I think..."

In a quiet, conspiratorial tone, the plan hatched itself.

Several minutes later all of our cars met around the corner from Kris and Ginny's. Overstuffed bodies releasing groans of pain disembarked. Then, like the one team we suddenly felt like we were, we wove our arms around each others’ waists until we were one solid wall of women.

Different colors, different heights, different sizes, but we were one solid wall of women off to display our solidarity, to declare each one of us winners to the meanies down the street.

It did not take us long to figure out that six interwoven women were a tad wider than a sidewalk, horizontally, mind you. We maneuvered until we fit vertically. We must have looked rather silly like that, clumsily walking sideways down the block: the Dicey Dykettes.

Once in the driveway of the old Victorian, we whooped and hollered until Kris and Ginny came out of the house.

"Ah, do I sense defiance?” Ginny challenged.

"Weall won this one,” several of us yelled.

"We tied,” a couple others declared.

"That's an extra two hundred points for each,” said Claudia.

"And your tickets, ladies. Do you have your tickets to prove this remarkable feat?” Ginny asked.

Three women stuck their hands into their pockets, retrieving the receipts that were then triumphantly waved in the air.

"Well, let's see what we have here,” Ginny said as she began studying each receipt. “Did I tell you girls that I went to school with Molly?"

Kris made some kind of snort noise, like she had consumed a Mad Cow too quickly, or maybe it was a maniacal laugh, as she already knew what was to befall us. I wanted to kick her, becauseI knew thatshe knew thatsomething had gone very wrong, that this mighty wall of women was about to crumble.

"Yes, I did go to school with her,” Ginny continued. “We've been friends since, oh, about first grade. Lovely woman. She'd do anything for me ... including watching you guys ... and time-stamping each of your receipts."

I could have sworn I saw Ginny duck at that point. I could have sworn I saw Kris stick her fingers in her ears. Both of them took precautions as the wall of women started wailing.

When the dust had settled and all objects within a three-block radius had stopped reverberating, Susan and Maggie were declared the winners. Claudia and I came in second—the ones who had helped them, mind you. Laura and Holly came in third—last in line because Holly had taken the time to offer help to Alison.Shit!

Each couple received the dreaded envelope containing the next clue. We were told that completion would net fifty points. As we headed back towards our cars—single file, this time—

Holly stayed back, apparently to tell Kris and Ginny about Lisa and Alison.

[Back to Table of Contents]

I think I was more sick of the damn car than I was of the game. My knees ached from the perpetual bucket seat position, and frankly, after that mother-of-all-burgers, I think the width of a bench seat would have served me much better.

"Okay, here we go again,” said Claudia, obviously feeling similar to me, judging by her stretch and groan.

"Half the points, half as hard, right?” I asked, hoping.

"Ah, I think you should keep in mind who we're dealing with. They're taking too much joy in this."

As I ripped open the envelope, I again made my vow, “Wewill get them for this."

"Shit, Laura's taking off already. She cannot be that quick!” Claudia remarked, watching the blue sedan pull a u-turn.

"She has to go back to the house and get Holly, yet. Gees, cool your jets!"

"Ah, spoke too soon. There go Maggie and Susan!"

"Read, then. Read!"

I held the sheet of paper in what was now a ritual. The action provided both fear and anticipation.

It'sfair ly safe to assume you're all sick of the cow.

So from here, let's all have a go at something high-brow.

We'll stick with the French and have you remember the Louvre For there is one in our crowd who has something to prove.

In the town hub they surely have all gathered by now.

At three, they give the brush-off: you better go—and how!

From the entrance to the exit, it's what we behoove.

Three business cards most certainly will make us approve.

"Okay, what do you think? ‘Fair’ is italicized. Louvre is a museum. Mona Lisa lives there. Oo, and so does the armless one, Venus de Milo!"

"Brush-off? No, maybe just brush."

"Town hub ... um ... City Square?"

"Yeah, City Square! Middle of downtown. Damn, there's a place there ... Holly's stuff ... the opening we went to—remember?"

In perfect unison, we declared, “Art Fair City Square! Woohoo!"

Tires squealed right a long with us as we made our way downtown. For perhaps the very first time, we would not be completely beaten to the punch.

We parked in the ramp and boarded the elevator for the trip down to the first floor. As the doors closed, we spied Laura and Holly pulling in and parking. They were definitely in a fire ass hurry.

Maybe what Maggie had said about it being unfair to give clues to a detective carried some weight. There were good at this. Too good at this.

I quickly planted a kiss of Claudia's cheek before the loudding marked our arrival on the first floor. We stepped out into the atrium, with its tall trees reaching skyward. The sun felt good on my skin, the glass letting rays come through full force. The trickle of water from the nearby fountain fostered the illusion of being hurled against the big bosom of Mother Nature.

Claudia looked around and quickly got her bearings. “It's an art show!"

"Damn, we're good!"

"So we just need three business cards, then—right? ‘Entrance to exit,’ though. What does that mean?"

"I think it just means to go the circuit, go through the whole thing."

"There has to be a trick to this, though,” she said. “That just seems too easy. Like we could be out of here in five minutes tops!"

"Well, then, let's shoot for four minutes. On your mark, get set—"