Cynical? Who me?
But it was nice to see this flirtation between Mother and Cotton.
I’m not saying Mother was ready to jump his bones. Nor am I implying that it was a case of love at first sight. They weren’t holding hands; they weren’t smooching away.
But there was something more than a little endearing about Mother’s mini crush on Cotton. Namely: he wasn’t Frankie Morrell.
Yep, I don’t miss much.
Cotton and mother said their good-bye on the small front step. A long, extended goodbye. Oh yes, all the nosy neighbors were hiding behind their curtains, peeking out the window watching them. I know, for I was hiding behind the curtain on one of the living room windows watching them watching. At the smaller window. Mrs. P had kicked me out of the better view. Mother wasn’t on many people’s happy list right now. And the rumor mill at the Wildoh was already running on tales of her.
So of course Mother knew as she stood out front with Carson, she was being watched. She knew it as she said goodbye. As she took his hand, and he smiled at her very fondly. And Katt Dodd knew it too, when she bent to kiss the gentleman on the cheek and aimed her ass at the lot of them.
The first thing Mother did when she got inside her condo was to hug Mrs. P.
“It’s not such a big deal,” Mrs. P said, and her shrug came easily. Or as easily as a shrug can come through the bear-hug grip of Katt Dodd. “You got troubles … we all got troubles. And I’ll get it back just as soon as Dix cracks this case wide open.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
I had to smile at that one. I was closer than even Mrs. P thought.
Mother was exhausted. She’d been up all night, mostly consoling Bobbie Sue. Turns out the young lady (aged sixteen) had been out on the mean streets all of two days before being picked up by the cops. She’d run away from her home in Delaware. From what Mother related to me (though she’d never break Bobbie Sue’s confidence and give the specific details, even to me) she didn’t blame Bobbie Sue one iota for leaving home. Things had been bad there. Very bad. But Mother convinced Bobbie Sue there had to be a better life out there than one of selling herself on the streets. By the end of the night, Mother had convinced her to take a bus to North Dakota where she had an aunt she was fond of. Phone calls were made. Tears shed. Truths told and promises given. Authorities notified.
Bus fair paid (compliments of the blue-haired, Frankie-knowing hooker).
One hundred and seventeen bucks shoved in her pocket (thanks to Officer North who took up a collection around the station overnight).
Drive to bus stop given (compliments of Officer Vega who reportedly waited at the bus stop until Bobbie Sue was safely boarded and the bus was heading down the road).
Hugs and hope given (by everyone there).
A prayer or two said.
And strict instructions from Mother to call collect when she settled in.
That was women for you.
Chapter 11
Mother was still upset over the missing watch. More so than ever after it was discovered at the scene of the latest crime. But where it showed up didn’t seem to bother her near as much as who had found it. Roger Cassidy. But why would that bother my mother? I was pretty sure there was nothing going on between the two of them.
“I just don’t understand how it could end up at Roger’s,” Mother said, worriedly. “I’ve never even been in his place.”
Well, I understood how that watch could end up at Roger’s. I just had to prove it.
Mother was very anxious to have the watch back, but of course, the cops were not about to return it. It had been bagged and tagged as evidence.
“Worse case scenario,” I told her, “I’ll buy you a new watch.
She shook her head. Not in a ‘no, no, don’t spend your money on me’ kind of way, but more in a ‘you just don’t understand’ kind of way. And she wasn’t about to elaborate.
Maybe I didn’t understand. God knows I’m no Dear Abby. Maybe such a gift from Frankie really meant something to my mother. Even if Frankie didn’t seem to anymore. And what about that hooker back at the jailhouse who claimed to know Frankie? What about my mother’s flirtation with Cotton Carson?
Whatever the case, soon enough the real thief would be exposed and Mother would be cleared of suspicion for those crimes.
Then it would be a heck of a lot easier to concentrate on the disappearance of Frankie Morrell, with mother no longer a suspect in the thefts. At the very least, it would deflect suspicion away from my mother, which in turn would make those who’d been suspicious of her in the first place feel guilty as hell. Good. I hoped they’d lose a month of sleeps. I hope they’d hang their heads in shame.
Like I said before, pettiness is underrated.
~*~
“Pinch-me Pink? Or something more subdued? Like….” I looked at the label of my own tube as I pulled it from my front pants pocket — “…Chapstick.”
I held up the choices for mother. She grabbed her Pinch-Me Pink while I smeared on the Chapstick. But she hesitated in her reach. And damn it if I didn’t almost hear her sigh.
Katt Dodd was wearing down. I didn’t like to see this.
Power naps taken (yes, even by me), we were geared up for the afternoon at the rec room. Everyone freshened up. It was Wednesday. Three days since Dylan, Mrs. P and I had arrived in Florida and two days until Mona’s birthday party. Something about the Florida weather — all that sun and fresh air, I slept like a log, thoroughly and deeply. Though an hour hadn’t been near enough to fully rejuvenate Mother after the night she’d had in jail, it did help. She was ready to face her accusers again. And she was ready to face her only friend at the Wildoh, Mona Roberts.
I hadn’t told Mother yet that I’d solved the crime. Why? Well, I knew she’d argue with me when I told who committed the crimes and was trying to frame her. This was going to hurt mother.
Also because I’m a great big freakin’ show-off. I wanted to do this — have the whole it-was-the-butler-with-the-candlestick-in-the-library moment — in front of my mom. A person just never outgrows that. Whether it’s jumping in the pool, riding a bike with no hands, marching down the aisle at graduation or kicking a jewel thief in the crotch — really, a person just never outgrows those ‘look, mom!’ moments.
Mother stiffened noticeably when we walked into the rec room. Well, noticeably to me, and no doubt to Mrs. P, who flanked her on the other side. But Mother’s obvious tension was probably not that noticeable to anyone else. Katt Dodd’s million-dollar smile beamed across her face.
The rec room was packed. A smiling Mona sat at the crib table, but flanked by an angry Roger Cassidy and an even angrier Vanessa Trueman. Annamarie Tildman didn’t so much as turn her head mother’s way. She just stared down into her crib hand, boring a hole into the cards with her eyes. Beth Mary was nearby in the kitchen, and her glance at mother, Mrs. P and me was brief and to the point. She was obviously firmly now on the “I-Hate-Katt” bandwagon. With her hands behind her back and one foot hiked up onto the wall, a short-skirted, tight-sweatered Tish leaned up against the wainscoting. Big Eddie looked frankly chastising as he surveyed the three of us. I didn’t see Wiggie for a minute. Not because he was completely hidden behind Harriet standing in front of him there by the windows (he was only half hidden), but because he looked just that despairing as he stood there. Harriet herself was in her typical hmph-mode. She stood heel to heel, toes out and arms crossed so tightly in front of her, it looked like she was going to slice her skinny self in half at the middle. (One could only hope).