Amy definitely felt like the third wheel in their James Bond movie. “Who do I get to be?” she said softly.
“Oh, you’re Mrs. Moneypenny,” Isabel said.
Amy frowned. She had hoped she would get to be Octopussy.
“What are we going to recon?” Isabel asked Edison.
“Our suspect. Chad, of course. If we can find proof of Amy’s story, we’ll present it to Jordan and she’ll have to believe her.” Edison rubbed her palms together. It was obvious she lived for moments such as these. “Come up to my lab. I need to gather up my gear and you all need some black clothes.”
“We’re going on a spy mission, we’re going on a spy mission,” Isabel chanted in a singsong voice, skipping out the door behind Edison.
“Some muscle you are,” Amy muttered under her breath. She slowly followed behind them, shaking her head. She’d never seen Isabel quite so animated. Is that what love looked like? If so, it was pretty ridiculous.
The Corndog
Edison led Amy and Isabel up to her lab on the third floor. As they entered the space, Amy knew why Jordan hadn’t wanted her to see it. It was a mélange of every science fiction movie she had ever seen – makeshift tables, tubes, wires, computer motherboards, tools, and diagrams taped to the walls. There was even a rolling chalkboard with algorithms scrawled all over it. It was, without a doubt, the lair of a mad scientist.
“Watch where you walk,” Edison advised, high-stepping over one of several electrical cords snaking across the floor.
“What is this place?” Isabel asked, obviously impressed.
“My lab. I’m an inventor, you know. That’s why they call me Edison.”
“What’s your real name?” Isabel asked.
Edison stopped rummaging through boxes and looked at her. “You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t.”
Edison said softly, “Alma.”
“Hmmm…” Isabel intoned. “Edison fits you better.”
“I know, right.” Edison turned and went back to rummaging.
Amy took that opportunity to swat Isabel in the arm. Isabel mouthed silently, “Why’d you do that?” Amy mouthed back, “Are you flirting with her?” Isabel shrugged and mouthed, “What’s it to you?” Amy rolled her eyes.
“Now where did I put those binoculars?” Edison asked herself.
Isabel picked her way around the room, staring at objects, tilting her head this way and that, oohing and ahhing. Suddenly, she stopped, her mouth dropped open and she pointed a finger at a set of cylindrical objects displayed on a shelf. “Is that a Corndog?” she gasped.
Edison turned. “Sure is,” she said proudly.
“Oh my God,” Isabel intoned. She took her time looking at the rest of the objects. “And that’s a Plunger! And a Muffin Mucker!”
“I invented those,” Edison said, puffing out her chest.
“You’re kidding me,” Isabel said. She was obviously in awe. Or maybe in lust. Either way, her face was red and her breath came in excited pants.
Amy interrupted, “Are those what I think they are?”
Isabel nodded. “They’re only the best dildos in the entire history of dildos.”
“Wow,” Amy said because she wasn’t sure how a person was supposed to respond to such news. “The only time I’ve ever seen a dildo up close and personal was when I interned in the emergency room and had to remove it from a man’s anal cavity when his sphincter muscles seized up.”
“How’d you get it out?” Edison asked, ever curious about such things.
“I tickled him,” Amy said. “He laughed and it shot out his butt.”
“Genius,” Edison said.
“Thank you.”
“Okay,” Edison said, clapping her hands in a “let’s get back to work” manner. She looked at Amy, “What kind of building does Chad live in? Is it a house, apartment, condo? Is it on the first floor or second floor and does it have an alley or parking lot or both?”
“He lives in second story apartment building and there’s a small parking lot and an alley. I think.”
“You think?”
“I was drunk and then unconscious, remember?”
“Okay,” Edison said. She pulled stuff out and tossed it on the bed, saying, “I’ll need this and this and this…”
“What can I do?” Isabel asked.
“Go look in those tubs over there and find some black clothes that fit the both of you. I have all sizes and there should be a spray bottle of Febreeze to freshen them up a bit,” Edison said, as she rooted around in one of the plastic bins located on a shelving unit filled with tons of other plastic bins.
Amy and Isabel dug through the tubs. Amy felt like her mother dumpster diving. Maybe this was how she got her start.
The tubs held not only black clothing but theatrical props as well. There were beards and hats and sunglasses and a Sarah Palin mask that scared her so bad when she pulled it out that she almost screamed.
They found a black cape for Amy and a black hoodie and commando pants for Isabel. Amy tried on the cape, spinning and whooshing it through the air. It made her feel like Lord Byron going on a romantic mission to clear her name and reclaim her lover. And when she held it over her head it made her feel invisible like Harry Potter when he was in sneaky-pants mode.
Edison popped up from her desk with a remote control helicopter to which she was attaching what appeared to be a set of binoculars with duct tape.
“What is that?” Amy said.
“It’s my remote recording binoculars with aerial capabilities.”
“That’s what I thought it was,” Isabel said smugly.
Amy rolled her eyes at Isabel. Does flirting have no limits? “I don’t get it,” Amy said. “Are you going to fly the toy helicopter to spy on him like through a window or something?”
“Bingo!” Edison said. “And if that doesn’t work we can always break in.”
“What!” Amy said, recoiling.
“Only as a last resort,” Edison assured her.
“I don’t really understand what we’re looking for,” Amy said.
“We want to know how Chad ticks. He’s got psycho-stalker written all over him. Let’s check out his digs and see what we can find. We get some proof that he’s a wacko and Jordan will believe your story. Because without any proof she’s still going to think you played her no matter what you say,” Edison said.
Amy groaned. She knew Edison was right.
“Okay, put your big girl panties on and let’s get a move on,” Edison said.
They loaded the helicopter with its attached binocular load and a scope thing and a box of sci-fi what-nots, as Amy thought of them, and an enormous toolbox into Edison’s VW bug. Amy rode in the back seat because Isabel had called shotgun. “Why don’t we put some of this in the trunk?” Amy asked as she sat on something hard, rubbery and pokey. It turned out that sitting on it wasn’t near as much fun as it sounded.
“Trunk’s full.”
Amy figured as much.
“Okay what’s his address?” Edison said.
Amy wasn’t exactly sure. “I know it was on the corner of Pine Street and another tree name street.”
Edison and Isabel stared at her like she was a hopeless excuse for a spy. Which of course, she was. Amy shrugged apologetically. “All trees look alike to me.”
Edison harrumphed and then pulled out a super small computer looking thing. “What’s his full name?”
Amy did know that at least. “Chad Earl Dorring.”
Edison and Isabel made yucky faces. Edison plugged the name in and immediately was rewarded with a phone number. Amy didn’t know if it was his or not. “You really don’t hang out with this guy do you?” Edison said.