The Chronicles of Marr-nia (Short Stories Starring Barbara Marr) (8 page)

“Were you?”

“You just told me not to tell you that.”

“Jesus!”

“Well then, don’t ask questions if you don’t want to hear the answers.
 
Why are you here?
 
The 911 operator told me they don’t call the FBI.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“The FBI has business here.
 
Don’t tell me you witnessed this explosion.”

“Okay, we didn’t witness this explosion.”

“You did.
 
Damn it, Barb!”

“Geez, How-man, don’t you talk to me anymore?
 
I’m feeling a little left out here.”

Howard glared Colt down and stuck a finger in his face.
 
“I’ll talk to you about this later.
 
Problem is, right now I’ve got business to handle, and you both might be a part of that.
 
Christ!
 
I’ll be right back.”
 
And Howard stalked off to talk to a hovering trio of policemen.

“He’s not happy.”

“Yeah, you’re not putting out.
 
He’s sexually frustrated.”

“Oh, shut up!
 
Why did you drag me into this?”

“We’re not going to have THAT conversation again, are we?”

As Howard stood there, his hands in his pockets, head nodding, surveying the area, I pondered his reason for being there.
 
After his years of lying about his job with the FBI, truth had become an obvious necessity between us.
 
At least, as much truth as he could provide.
 
The FBI didn’t allow him to reveal all things about his job these days, but he was able to tell me that he had most recently been assigned to the National Gang Task Force located at National Headquarters.

Why would the National Gang Task Force be interested in an explosion that had leveled Paula
whats
-her-name’s apartment when she was meeting Master
Kyo
for a lunch-time quickie?

Something else was nagging at me.
 
Something I had observed between Paula, Master
Kyo
, and of all people – my mother.
  
She had convinced me that Tae Kwon Do would be the thing for me – get me in shape and teach me to protect myself in dangerous situations.
 
I’m not sure I’d gotten in shape, but certainly I was always in so much pain, that whenever anyone came near me, I was likely to kill them.
 
If that’s what you call protection.

In any event, one day I’d mustered up the nerve to stop by Master
Kyo’s
studio at a time when he wasn’t having classes.
 
My mission:
 
to quit Tae Kwon Do.
 
I’d had enough.
 
The pain was too extreme.
 
I had kids and a life – I didn’t have time to soak my weary body in Epsom salts three times a week after an hour of cruel and unusual punishment to my aging body.
 
It was time to end the misery.

However, when I’d walked in, he wasn’t alone – he was in his office with Paula, my mother, and two young girls.
 
They looked to be about my daughter Cassie’s age – fourteen, maybe fifteen at the most.
 
They were crying, and speaking in Spanish, which my mother seemed to be translating for Paula and Master
Kyo
.
 
I hadn’t even known my mother could speak Spanish.
 
Of course she has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, runs marathons, and claims to have gotten drunk with Ernest Hemingway, so I don’t know why I should doubt that she could speak not only Spanish, but probably also Russian, Swahili and Urdu to boot.

While I pondered on that strange encounter at Master
Kyo’s
, I saw a female figure walking along the path that parallels
Rustic Woods Parkway
.
 
Not necessarily something that should catch my eye as suspicious, with two exceptions.
 
Number one:
 
the woman wasn’t rubber necking at the disaster scene.
 
Not a bit.
 
Didn’t crane her neck to look once.
 
Half the cars on
Rustic Woods Parkway
had stopped in the middle of the road to watch the carnage unfold, but not this woman.
 
Walking along like she didn’t have a care in the world.
 
Too odd.

Number two, and more important than number one:
 
The woman was huge.
 
Not fat, but extraordinarily tall, and freakishly big boned.
 
To be blunt – a woman of colossal size.
 
She was walking away from us, so I only saw her back, but that’s all I needed to see to know that the woman was my own mother.

Damn!

Of course, the other problem with this little scenario is that my mother has an uncanny ability to sniff out my whereabouts from over one thousand miles away, so the fact that she was walking away from me and this mess meant one thing.
 
She had something to hide.
 

I elbowed Colt.

“
Psst
.
 
Don’t be too obvious, but look over there at that woman.”

“What woman?”

“On the path.”
 
I pointed down low with my index finger as discreetly as I could.
 
“Don’t let Howard see you looking.”

Colt looked out of the corner of his eyes, one way toward the path, then back to me and whispered.

“Is that who I think it is?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not big foot.
 
And with feet that big – if it’s not big foot . . .”

“It’s your mother.”

“Do you think Howard has seen her yet?”

Colt shot a glance at Howard, who looked back in our direction.
 
I froze.
 
He yelled across from his huddle of law enforcement buddies.
 
“You two stay right there – I’ll be back in ten minutes.
 
I need to talk to you both.”

I gave a nod and a whatever-you-say-honey smile.
 
Colt waved a terse, but cool half-wave indicating manly understanding – the way manly men do – and then Howard moved off in the opposite direction with two uniformed policemen.

“Okay, coast is clear, let’s go,” I said.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know, but my mother’s up to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just follow me.
 
I may need your expertise.”

Luckily, just to our left was a small cluster of evergreen trees that stood between us, and the parkway.
 
It was an odd grouping of trees that didn’t seem to be there for either for privacy or aesthetic purposes, but it served our needs at the moment.
 
I snuck behind the small grove motioning Colt to follow, which he did.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“To formulate a plan.”

Once safely behind the trees, I started moving down the path.
 
Parkway traffic crept at a snail’s pace next to us and ahead, my mother’s hulking frame moved steadily away.
 
She was carrying a plastic grocery bag filled nearly to capacity.

“Why are you so concerned about your mother, anyway?”

“Last time I saw her, she was with Paula and Master
Kyo
.
 
Ordinarily she’d be all over this scene – probably telling the police how to do their job.
 
I don’t trust her – she’s up to something.”

“Your mother scares me.”

“Really?
 
You’re the only person I know who doesn’t cower around her.”

“It’s a façade.
 
I’m smiling on the outside, quaking on the inside.”

I peeked back to assess the crime scene and determine our ability to make a run for it without being noticed.
 
I didn’t see Howard.
 
More official cars had arrived.
 
They were unmarked.
 
Probably FBI.
 
The fire in the apartment had been put out, and firemen looked like they were in heavy discussion about what to do next.
 
I figured now was as good a time as any.

“Okay – run!”

“No,” said Colt pulling me back. “Don’t run. That will attract attention.
 
Walk fast.
 
Look like you belong on the path.
 
PI trick.”

We took off at a fast walking clip.

“How do you look like you belong on the path?”

“It takes a lot of practice.”

Ahead of us, my mother took a sharp and unexpected turn to the right into one of my favorite small shopping plazas.
 
I knew those shops well.
 
When the weather turned frosty, I turned to Positively Polly’s Coffee, Tea and Read.
 
It was a cozy little bookstore with a coffee and tea bistro.
 
I would also buy birthday cards and wrapping paper at Danielle’s Cards and Gifts, order flowers for teacher appreciation day from Rustic Woods Fancy Floral, and occasionally get a sandwich at Parkway Panache.

We quickened our pace to a slow jog.
 
We were well past the apartment complex by that time, so we thought we were safe.

A plaza sign and another set of trees obscured my view.
 
I was afraid I had lost her, but luckily I caught sight of her again as she moved onto the sidewalk in front of a vacant shop next to Rustic Woods Fancy Floral.
 
The windows were covered from the inside with white paper and a posted sign read:
 
Space
For
Rent.

My mother put the bag down and pulled something out of the purse slung over her left shoulder.
 
Next thing I knew, she was slipping a key into the lock and walking into the vacant shop.
 
Grabbing my head with both of my hands, I worked to suppress a growing headache.
 
My mother had a way of giving me headaches.

“Why does your mother have keys to that place?” Colt asked.

“No idea.”
 
The headache throbbed mercilessly.

“Let’s go see.”

“Do we have to?” I whined.

“You started this.
 
Besides, my only job went up in smoke an hour ago, so I have nothing better to do.”

“Fine.”
 
True, I had started it, but I was chickening out.
 
My mother has a way of bringing out the cowardly fowl in me.

Colt and I scooted across the parking lot, moving inconspicuously just to the side of the large plate glass windows of the vacant shop.
 
Trying to peek inside was difficult since the windows were mostly covered.
 
I had about one inch of clear glass which allowed me to see two panted legs from the shin down and feet wearing loafers.
 
They looked like women’s loafers – small feet, so I knew they weren’t my mother’s.
 
The legs moved back and forth like the person owning them was pacing.

My headache increased with the squinting required
to peep
through the small opening.
 
I was getting colder and grumpier by the minute as a sharp, brisk wind screamed past me.

Finally, I’d had enough.
 
With a loud grunt, I grabbed the door and gave it a tug.
 
It didn’t budge.
 
My mother had locked it behind her.
 
Grabbing the silver door handle with both hands, I shook the locked door violently and screamed.

“Mother!
 
Let me in!
 
I know you’re in there!”

“Way to be discreet there, Curly.”

Ignoring Colt’s remark, I started pounding on the door.
 
“Mother!
 
I want in this minute.
 
I’m cold and tired, and now the aroma from Parkway Panache is making me hungry.
 
I’m not happy here!
 
Let me in!”

By now, passersby were staring at me and whispering to each other.
 
Colt smiled.
 
Just before I was about to give the door another jerk, the dead bolt snapped back and the door opened just wide enough to allow my mother’s decidedly large and perfectly coifed head to emerge.
 
She saw Colt first.

“Well, well.
 
Colt Baron.
 
What are you doing here?”
 
She was playing innocent.
 
My mother doesn’t play innocent very well.

“Mother!
 
What is going on here?”
 
I was seething.

“Oh, Barbara.
 
I didn’t see you there.
 
Do you think you could come back later, dear?
 
I’m a little busy right now.”