The Immaculate Deception (40 page)

“
Enjoy your snack. I’ll be back in a few.”

Bubbles let him out.

~*~

Within the half-hour, Mr. Meddlestein returned, smiling. “You are free to go.”

“
Thanks. What’d ya do?”

“
You committed no crime that they have any evidence to charge you with. You have no motive to have burned Little Mount Vernon down. You weren’t heir, no matter which will turns out to be legitimate. Therefore you couldn’t have profited from an insurance settlement. No body was found in the ashes, therefore you weren’t covering up a murder. And seeing as how it was your parents’ house and you believed you were executrix of your father’s will, you had every right to be there.”

“
You’re brilliant, Mr. M. What about Officer Dick and Fawn Fiddler?”

“
I have reported your claims. They are looking for both officers at the moment. You know, you will have to give an official statement. Also, about this counterfeit money and that Blandings’ murder you told me about. But that’s a different case. For the moment, since you were accused of arson, you are free to leave.”

We both smiled.

“
Come along, Donna, I’ll give you a ride home and then I’ll pay a visit to the Fairfax County Police. Don’t want to give them an opportunity to conceal any evidence about two of their own.”

Mr. Meddlestein had phoned a locksmith before leaving the DC Jail. He wanted to make sure my locks were changed today. The white truck was waiting in my driveway when we pulled up.

I opened the door and the locksmith went to work. Mr. Meddlestein and I walked into the living room and I gave him Fawn Fiddler’s business card. I pointed out the window to Dick’s house.

“
I saw them together one night. Fooling around. The night the lights went out. They had candles in the bedroom. I saw their silhouettes in the shade. Naked. Embraces. Sexual contact. Then I watched them kissing goodbye in the driveway and she drove off.”

Meddlestein took it all in. He wanted me to show him where I had kept the hundred-dollar bills in the closet. He told me not to touch anything. He stayed until the locksmith left. He told him to send the bill to his office.

~*~

I opted for a hot bubble bath with vanilla-scented candles and some soothing music. I flipped to the cable music station on my TV in the bedroom and selected the easy listening station. I turned it up loud and left the bathroom door open.

I disrobed and stepped into the steamy bath. Lavender-scented suds enveloped me. I needed to have a good cry. Let the emotion just take over until I could purge it from my soul. I sniffed. Nothing. I couldn’t cry.

I laid my head back and bent my knees, slipping under, so that everything but my eyes, nose and mouth were submerged. I didn’t like the water echoing as it sloshed in and out of my ears. I sat up a little and exposed them.

I stuck my finger in one of my blond dripping ringlets. Mike Taurus. White hair. He must’ve been blond when he was young. Blondes turned white, brunettes turned gray when they aged.
Donna, you inherited your blond hair from your biological father. And your writing gene too.
I smiled. Marilyn was probably a bottled blonde. What traits had I inherited from her? Certainly not beauty. Oh right, I knew what I inherited from my biological mother. Being treated like dirt by everyone my entire life, a constant struggle with my weight…and my sanity.

I blew at a big blob of bubbles. They scattered into the air. Sparkly iridescent. Tranquility scented with lavender. Oh Mr. Jones. I do miss you. So much. Why’d you have to go and die on me? Choke on that burger? It wasn’t fair. You promised that you were my mate.

Wait a minute. I sat up straight. Maybe you didn’t choke. Maybe you were murdered? Maybe that burger was poisoned by Myron Wimpledink? The newspaper clipping! Secret Service agent murdered! The bun! Officer Dick’s dad had murdered my dream lover! Well, he wasn’t getting away with it.

I dried off and yanked on some clothes. I walked restlessly through the house. I needed to stop this madness. Stop the whole Fiddler clan from inflicting any more damage. I pushed down the slats of economical white mini blinds in my living room window, peeking at Officer Dick’s house across the street. Hey, I could see something glittering in the upstairs window. Slowly the shades moved aside and Officer Dick’s face came into full view. He set aside his binoculars.
He had been watching my house.
He smiled at me but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Then he just stared. He looked like a madman.

I moved away from the living room window and ran to the telephone. I once again automatically extricated the number of the Meddlesteins out of the cobwebs of my childhood. I knew they didn’t change the number.

Mrs. Meddlestein picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“
Mrs. Meddlestein, it’s Donna Payne.”

“
Oh hello, dear, how are you? I made up a thermos but—”

“
I need to speak to your husband.”

“
Roddy’s not in right now. I’ll give him a message for you.”

I exhaled. “Please tell him to get here right away. Officer Dick is in his house. I think he wants to get me or something. And changing the locks won’t keep him out.”

“
What are you talking about? Who is Officer Dick, dear?”

“
He knows what I’m talking about. Have him come to my house right away. Please?”

“
Calm down, dear. I’ll page him. Stay put. What’s your address?”

“
One–three–one–two–seven Spyglass Street, Reston. But he knows that. Mrs. Meddlestein, I can’t call the police. I don’t know how many of them are dirty. Can you call Chief Wrigley and ask him to come over? I don’t have his phone number.”

“
Okay, I’ll give him a ring. Now sit tight, dear. Lock the doors. I’ll get the message to Roddy and Chief Wrigley and then I’ll be right over—”

Click. She hung up on me.
She’ll be right over?
Oh whatever.

Chapter Seventeen

W
hat was the name of that locksmith? King’s? Kelly’s? Something with a K. I flipped through the yellow pages and dragged my finger down the listings. Kopy Kats. That must be it. I dialed.

“
Yes, hello. One of your men just changed the locks on my doors. I wonder if he’s still in the area. Can you dispatch him to come back?”

The receptionist asked, “Who is this?”

“
Donna Payne.”

“
You say he was just there? What is your address?”

I told her. And explained that I wanted him to turn the French doors around, so that the hinges were on the inside. She said she’d try to contact him but that wasn’t one of their usual services. There would be a substantial fee. I didn’t care.

I started shoving the kitchen table up against the French doors and then stopped. That was stupid. He’d just remove the door from the outside and climb over or under the table.

The sound of a car door slam prompted me to peer out between the blinds in my living room window. A yellow cab backed out of my driveway. Gloria Meddlestein had one hand on the black wrought iron railing and the other clamped onto a red wicker picnic basket. I waited until she surmounted the top step. Then I cracked open the door, just enough to squeeze her in.

I hoarsely whispered, “Come in quick.” As I grabbed the basket, I nearly dropped the hefty parcel. She snuck in. I closed the door, threw my weight on it, just like Officer Dick taught me to, heard the click and then engaged the new locks. How ironic was that?

“
Hello, Mrs. Meddlestein, what are you doing here?”

“
You need company, dear. Which way to the kitchen?”

I ushered her and the basket down the hallway. I heaved it up onto the pistol gray granite countertop.

Gloria Meddlestein opened the handles, flipped the red lid up and removed a frilly white apron. She tied it on and began serving.

“
Did you get in touch with your husband?”

“
Yes, I paged him and he called me lickety-split. He said he was with young Judge Payne and would leave momentarily. He seemed to understand about the officer. I also called the Chief. He said he would be over as well.” Mrs. Meddlestein set the table for four, with gold-rimmed china with a pink and orange floral pattern. Hers, not mine. Who was she expecting to feed?

The telephone rang. I plodded over and stared at it. The caller ID indicated an unknown number. “Hello, no one is able to come to the phone. Please leave your message after the tone.” My stomach churned. Click. A hang-up.

I heard the French door swing open and Mrs. Meddlestein saying, “Well, hello. You’re just in time for lunch. Have a seat right here.”

It was Officer Dick. And he did. He sat right down and draped a pink cloth napkin across his lap.

His eyes met mine. He said, “Hi ya.”

My gut jumped to my throat. “Hello.” I grabbed onto the back of a barstool to steady myself.

Gloria Meddlestein poured mango iced tea into cut-glass goblets. She garnished them with mint sprigs.

I wanted to run out the front door and not stop running until I was on Mars in my Mr. Jones’ arms. But I couldn’t leave a murderer alone with Mrs. Meddlestein.
Come on, Mr. Meddlestein, come on quick. Where are you?

Gloria forked out pastrami onto Dick’s plate. Then she bit her tongue, attempting to open a jar of big kosher dills.

“
Allow me.” Dick effortlessly twisted the lid off.

“
Thank you.”

I silently watched her plate up mashed potatoes, with heat still rising from the fluffy mounds. She rustled around in the bottom of the basket. “Oy, I forgot the rye.”

Officer Dick grinned. “I’ve got some home baked bread. I’ll be right back.”

She said, “Where is it?”

“
I live just across the street.”

I said, “No, that’s all right, we don’t need bread.”

Mrs. Meddlestein said, “Sit, eat, Donna. I’ll be happy to go and get it. You have a nice nosh with your fella.”

“
No! Don’t! Um…I’m on a special diet and can’t eat bread.”

The doorbell rang. Thank God. I sprinted through the hallway and flung the door open. I stepped onto the stoop and closed the door.

Roddy Meddlestein said, “What spooked you?”

“
Officer Dick, Dick Fiddler, he’s in the kitchen with your wife. He’s after me, I know it. And now he wants to get poisoned bread. I think he has lost his mind. We have to get out of here.”

Meddlestein crossed his arms. “What?”

“
The cop. Dick Fiddler. The thief and murderer. Trying to relive his father’s crimes.”

“
Are you positive?”

“
Yes, I really think he’s gone crazy.” Oh my God, Mrs. Meddlestein was alone with him. “Come on. He’s alone with your wife.”

I turned toward the door.

Mr. Meddlestein said, “We need to get him away from my wife and you. But we can’t confront him head-on, there is no way of telling what a madman can do.”

“
Okay.” I opened the door and we strolled back to the kitchen. “Dick, this is Roderick Meddlestein, Gloria’s husband.”

Officer Dick stood up and shook hands with Mr. Meddlestein. “Pleasure. Your wife is a fine cook.”

“
Oh she keeps me fat and sassy.”

I said, “Before you sit, why don’t you trot across the street, Dick, to get some of your home baked bread.”

We looked at Officer Dick.

He glared at me, “Why don’t we all go? You’ve all got to try this bread. Delicious. My mother and dad passed the recipe on to me. They’re both up in heaven now.”

Gloria said, “God rest their souls.”

He looked directly at me. “I don’t have a family now. They were taken away from me. You’re lucky. You have a brother and a sister… By the way, I like your sister’s apartment. I had my hair done there, you know?”

What the—
I felt woozy. Sleepy. Not good.

Mr. Meddlestein said, “What’s wrong, dear?”

Gloria rushed over. “You look a fright. Roddy, carry her to the couch.”

Roddy’s eyes popped. Dick said, “Here, I’ll help.” He swept me up in his arms and carried me into the living room. He dropped me onto the couch.

Mrs. Meddlestein said, “I’ll bring some ginger ale and soda crackers.” She did.

“
Just set them on the table, I just need to close my eyes a moment.”

Officer Dick said, “She’s been having these spells. I found her out cold on the kitchen floor the other day. I’ll get her my bread. She needs nourishment.”

Gloria said, “Let the poor dear rest. You boys go and get the bread. And take your time.”

~♥~

I blacked out. No music. No sparkly colors. Nothing but the black depths of space. I could hear Mrs. Meddlestein but I couldn’t respond. It sounded like she was making phone calls.

I did feel that irresistible forward propulsion though. It was so cold. Really, really cold. Ouch. I banged my head. On what? I couldn’t see anything. Like that glass wall in my horrible dream where my Mr. Jones died. I felt cold tears dribbling from my eyes. My arm even was wet with crying. Wait. I felt suction. A black hole was opening to receive me. What was that? A faint clay-reddish glow. My arm was a deluge of tears.