Scavengers (5 page)

Ding!

The elevator doors opened behind us, but it was more like a dam bursting, as Holly's energy and not-stop chatter gushed out with her. With it all came the sensation that we were being swept under and downstream.

"Oh God, you guys, isn't this just so sweet of them to make this a clue? Imagine that! I gave up showing my stuff here so I could go to the club meeting. I had my sister sit with my work. Oh, this is so sweet! My stuff. My sister. My friends. Oh my God, look at that oil! Oh my God, look at that one! It's beautiful."

She threaded her arm around me and then pulled Claudia into the knot. In one quick motion, we were swept into the torrent of her passion for the moment.

"Have you seen my latest painting? Have you ever met my sister? Let's go see—"

I helplessly turned my head around to look at Laura. She stood there, arms akimbo, just shaking her head from side to side. “Oh yes,” she said. “Wasn't itjust so sweet of them to make this a clue? Kid, candy store. Druggie, shooting gallery. Whore, whorehouse.” She shook her head again, looking rather pained. “I'll never get her out of here!"

The distance between Laura and us expanded rapidly, but she didn't make a move. “You guys should just run. Grab your frickin’ cards and just run!” She was yelling now, and her words barely reached us as the crowd engulfed us.

A few feet in front of us sat the spitting image of Holly. For one who loved to paint, this woman must have been like an animated self-portrait. Her blond, messy hair fell in jagged waves just below her shoulders—just like Holly's. Her smile radiated more than just pleasantry—just like Holly's. Her dark jeans tightly hugged a sleek body that stood three inches taller on thick-soled shoes—just like Holly's. When she saw Holly, the gesticulations and verbiage spattered and spewed and sputtered—just like you-know-you. In a way, it was surreal. These mirror images should have given commonness to everything so unique to Holly, and yet, it seemed almost to do the opposite. It was as if a light shone down upon them and only them, making them stand out in a way that seemed somehow apropos.

"Kate, Claudia, this is my little sister, Noelle,” she said, hauling us in closer. “Sis, did you sell any?"

"Two of them!” she excitedly declared. “That red swirly one, oh, and the flowery one I liked so much. Oh yeah and one woman said she'd probably be back for the lighthouse."

"Oh my God,” Holly interjected. “I wonder—"

I leaned into Claudia to whisper, “Try to slowly inch away. We've got to get free. Whoever makes it out has to get the cards."

She nodded about the same time Holly scooped us up and began pulling us through the current again, docking at each artist's little island. To this day, I do not think I have ever heard the word

“beautiful” used so many times in one mere breath. With the Holly-line still mooring us, we met artist after artist. We saw paintings, sculptures, and tapestries. We smelled turpentine, popcorn, and the nauseating stench of burgers emanating from the restaurant at the end of the corridor.

And then we saw Laura. She eased up behind us and carefully slid three business cards into my back pocket. “Three cards for you. Three cards for us. I'm sorry my little woman has kidnapped you. I will save you, though—and myself. I promise. It's the least I can do."

We laughed and thanked her as we again felt the tugboat moving us further downstream.

"I have a plan,” Laura said, ducking down behind Holly and squat-walking with us. “Just go with her, and when you see me again, you'll know what to do.” She crouched even lower, turned quickly, and disappeared into the crowd.

We nodded our agreement to no one but each other and continued along—as if we had a choice—with the tug.

Perhaps twenty enlightening but long minutes later, we finally saw Laura again. She was standing next to a man who was drawing portraits for visitors. A long line of anxious people stretched out before him.

Laura pointed at Holly and then pretended to slap herself upside the head. “There you are!” she said. “I have been looking all over for you."

"Oh, honey,” Holly oozed, “I am so glad we got to come here. I just love these things! Come over here. There's this beautiful—"

"No, Holly. I need you for something,” she said, pulling Holly in and motioning for us to break free.

We did so quickly but ensured a good vantage point.

"See, Hol, I've commissioned this fine young man here to do a portrait of you. I'd really like one, and it'll help this young man be as good an artist as you one day.” She winked at the poor young man who was collecting money for the portrait he just finished.

"No, Laura. The line's too long. We'll be here all day. I'd rather go—"

"Oh, but, Hol, I've paid the man a hefty price to take you next. Just think of it! You, with all your talent, demonstrating how posing isreally done. The crowd will love it. It will bebeautiful!" she coaxed.

"We'll, if you're sure that—"

"Oh, I'm sure, Holly. Just stand right here,” she instructed. “Make like a mannequin. I just love mannequins. Mannequins are beautiful."

Holly took the stance—maybe what Venus de Milo looked liked before she lost her arms. Laura helped her pose until she was just so. She glanced at us, and for the first time since we had entered City Square, it was obvious that Laura was having fun. No longer was it a chore to break Holly free from a spell. The goal now was to cast one—on us, on the crowd, and eventually upon Holly when she had the mind to fathom it.

Holly stood there completely motionless. I was not sure I had ever seen her motionless. Then Laura held up a hand to us and mouthed, “On the count of five!"

We counted to ourselves, and the instant the five announced itself within our skulls, Laura lowered herself and aimed at Holly's torso. Swiftly, she rammed and scooped Holly up and over her shoulder. Suddenly the tugboat was beached and being towed by Laura's strong arms.

“Follow me, guys!” she yelled, and we fell in behind them.

Once we reached the elevator, the people around us didn't react with the humor that the witnessing crowd had. Rather, Holly's flailing arms and legs on either side of Laura and the repeated cry of “Let me go!” seemed to have put the word “abduction” into their minds.

"Granton PD,” Laura tried to assure them. “I'd show you my badge, but my arms are rather full at the moment.” She turned her head towards us and implored, “Can you guys help me, please?"

We both moved through the crowd, cleared the area in front of the elevator, and hit the up button.

When the doors opened, the four of us entered, and I hit the three. As we waited for the doors to close, the crowd inched closer, each person possessing that looking-at-the-scene-of-an-accident glaze in their eyes.

"Public drunkenness,” Laura said dismissively. “No big deal. She's a fine upstanding citizen, really. She just needs to sleep it off."

With that, the elevator doors closed, and we all burst out laughing. Everyone except for Holly that is. She was now beating Laura's back with a vengeance.

As we neared the cars, Laura said, “You guys just take off. Get your butts back there with those cards. It's only fair that you beat us, as the little woman kind of ruined your plan. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"You sure?” Claudia asked. “Can you get her in the car okay?"

"We can help if you need it,” I offered.

Holly heard that, and now the threats we aimed at us as well.

"Just go,” she said. “Everything is just fine. I swear."

We got into our car but felt a strong reluctance to leave them both like that. We stalled a bit, and eventually we saw Laura put Holly down, placing her upright next to the car. Laura planted several kisses on her, and once we knew that they were both laughing, we sped off to Kris and Ginny's.

Not only did Maggie and Susan beat us, but Alison and Lisa were also in receipt of the next envelope and heading back to their car.

We approached the driveway, and I handed the three business cards to Kris.

"I see you two survived,” she said. “Good job.” She looked at her watch and jotted down the time on her clipboard.

"Any sign of Laura and Holly, or should we just cross them off the list?” Ginny asked, half laughing.

"Oh, they'll be here soon,” Claudia assured. “I think so anyway."

"Genevieve Audrey Bleeker, you are one mean chick!” I yelled at her, trying to squelch laughter.

“You know exactly what kind of mess you just caused. You are so cold and calculating! I never knew it. And Kris, I know you are not innocent either!"

Both feigned utter indignation.

"If I wasn't so happy that the best clue-solvers were finally put in their place, well, I just might be mad."

"Give it time, Kate. Give it time. There's probably one just for you, too,” Ginny bantered.

I stuck my tongue out at her, grabbed the next envelope from Kris—which for some as yet unknown reason had bandanas tied around it—and headed toward the car.

"This one's worth two hundred points,” Kris yelled after us. “Good luck!"

[Back to Table of Contents]

"What do you think the bandanas are for?” I asked, untying them to discover that there were two.

"Beats me."

"Maybe they're going to turn us into biker chicks or something.” I laughed at the absurdity of that, but at the same time, I knew that it was safer to assume nothing.

"I don't want to be a biker chick, Kate!” Claudia said, turning up the drama. “Promise me you won't let them."

"Oh, shush. Let's just find out and get it over with. It's worth two hundred points."

"Oh great, four times harder than the last one,” Claudia noted.

Au revoirto the French; now we're back to the myths that are Greek.

Echo, Zeus’ nymph, was caught by his wife, made unable to speak.

Oedipus gouged out his own eyes, blind like he was to his fate.

These two are not akin to Holly, Maggie, Alison, or Kate.

Alas, we must also return to the big park owned by State.

At the start take bandanas so that sight and speech are ceased.

Read the map in the case till you know the way to the gully—east.

Drive there; then on foot you must lead the one who is deaf and mute.

On the trail, the bridge, and back; trust proven beyond refute.

Bring back one pic: the leader; the lead; muddied sole of your boot.

"Four times harder than the last? Maybe I spoke too soon. This actually seems kind of easy.” She twisted her brow, as if thinking we had missed something.

"Well, maybe on the surface, it looks that way. It seems like the easier the clue the harder the task, though,” I reasoned. “Picking a flower was easy—"

"No,taking a picture of a flower!” she corrected.

"You know what I mean! Getting the ‘thing’ was really simple, but the clue almost did us in.

Then we quickly figure out Art Fair City Square, and all hell breaks loose."

"You're right. God help us."

Wordlessly, Claudia pointed the car in the direction of Mill Lake State Park. On the way, we hit the drive-thru at Road Swill for a much needed latte and a tea. I eased back in my seat, resting one foot on the dashboard and letting the caffeine revive me. My mind wandered back to the way the day had begun: that horrid tension over breakfast. I remembered the rift between us over the stupid violet. Then I remembered her promise to find out what it was that kept us stuck in the muck. Could we possibly keep going from worst to good?

I stealthily looked at her as she drove. She seemed lost in thought, too, and I wondered if our trains of thought were on the same track. It felt better between us. I prayed that it would not be short-lived.

"Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

"A penny! I think they're worth more than that."

"Always the financial guru looking for a deal. How much then? And make sure it's something I can afford."

"Well, I don't know. It may just bankrupt you."

"Morally or financially? I have greater stock in one than in the other.” I laughed.

She smiled and did not answer. Obviously, the thought-train had furthered her down the track; yet, I knew—unlike all the other times over these past years when she pulled away—that she was still within reach. It was easier to let her go off in whatever direction she needed as long as I knew that. I needed to know that.

"Well, are you going to demand payment or not?"

"Oh yeah,” she said as if surprised. “But I added to my thoughts, though, so I guess the price has to go up, too."

"For God's sake just tell me the price before it's too late!” I demanded.

"Well...” she said, drawing out the word until it seemed as long as a sentence. “How about a kiss?"

"Now that I can afford!"

I quickly spun around in my seat so that my back was facing the windshield. I planted one on her lips, soft and long, trying not to block her view of the road in front of us. Then, I slid down until my head rested on her thigh. My feet pushed hard against the passenger-side window. Despite the fact that the parking brake threatened to remove a kidney out of my back, I felt very comfortable there. I looked up at her as she drove. She smiled and brought a free hand down to gently stroke my head.

"So what were you thinking, hon? Now that I've paid up."

"Actually, I'm thinking what I always think when we have these gatherings,” she began. “It's probably not a very healthy thing to do, but I compare us to the others."

"I do that, too. I don't think it's unhealthy. For me it's more measuring that comparing."

"That's a good way to look at it,” she agreed. “It's not like I'm thinking so-and-so has it better or that I'm glad we're not like so-and-so. It's more like seeing ourselves from different perspectives.

If that makes sense."

"It makes sense. It's kind of how you work, Claudia. It's the project manager in you doing quality assurance. No?"

She chuckled at that. Apparently, I hit the nail on its flattop head.

"It feels different this time, though, compared to other times I've done it,” she explained, still stroking my hair, still keeping eye contact with me when the roadway permitted. “Maybe it's because it seems as though we've been taking stock of our relationship for a while now. Seeing the others lets me see us instead of just thinking us, I guess."