“Are those stories about his mom true?”
“What stories?”
“You know the stories.” Johnny punched Wiggy playfully in the arm.
“I wouldn’t mind having a little bit of that. She’s still pretty good-looking. Older women can teach you stuff.”
Wiggy was silent.
“I remember when we were kids, how she’d wear those low-cut dresses and lean over so you could have a peek. Remember when I had the motorcycle? Mrs. Hendrix asked me to take her for a ride. I had an incredible boner all the time I was riding her around the block. Her arms were tight around me and every time I changed gears I could feel her breasts against my back. When I dropped her off at her house, she said the next time we should go farther. Man, I was clueless. I never gave her another ride. What an idiot, eh?”
“I don’t like to talk about her. She’s Terry’s mother and he’s a friend.” Johnny smirked. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive. You should use that, man. Chicks dig sensitive guys. A few tears drop and before you know it they’re dropping their panties.”
Wiggy turned to Johnny. “You’ve done that?”
Johnny smiled. “Works every time.”
The Canadiana
“I’m sorry to call on you at work like this,” Detective Kelly said as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips.
Mary smiled and stirred her coffee. She wondered what the police officer wanted with her. She prayed it wasn’t about Terry.
“Would you like to order something to eat?” the detective asked. “It’s on me.”
Mary shook her head. “I’m trying to lose a little weight, Officer.” The detective smiled. “Call me Sam. You look fine if you don’t mind me saying. I’ve seen you in the Zig Zag.”
Mary nodded then whispered, “To tell you the truth, Sam, I can’t stand the food here.”
The detective laughed. “I would have talked to you at your office,” he continued, “but I thought we’d have more privacy here. And the air-conditioning is better.”
Mary smiled.
“I understand you know Joe Mackenzie?”
“Old Joe? Not very well. His wife and I used to be friends when we were kids but I don’t know Joe too well. Only what June told me. They didn’t have much of a marriage, but that ain’t news. Joe works as a security guard at night here in the plaza if that helps.” The detective took out a pad and pencil.
“I’m just going to take a few notes if you don’t mind,” he said. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. Do you know any of the other Mackenzies?”
“June said that there were a couple of other brothers and a sister too, I think. I never met them. They all left the area. I think one of them lives in Winnipeg. June said he got married to some farm girl. June wasn’t the type to talk much about Joe’s family. She mostly complained about Joe.”
“They fought a lot?”
Mary nodded. “June did most of the fighting. He was several years older than her. I don’t know what she saw in him but to each his own.
She hated living in that old house. All Joe wanted to do was read his books. June liked to dance. And Joe wasn’t much good in the sack ac-cording to June. They hadn’t been doing it for years.” The detective looked up. “Why did they get married?”
“He was smart,” Mary responded, lifting her cup to her mouth and blowing over the hot coffee before sipping it. “She liked the fact that he was so smart. June had always gone out with stupid men and Joe was a 77 genius. She figured that they’d get rich some day. June wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Women always marry for the wrong reasons. June fooled around a lot.”
Mary took a package of cigarettes out of her purse. The detective fished in his pocket for a match but found nothing. Mary smirked and handed him her lighter. He leaned over and lit her cigarette. There was a smell of lilac.
“I like your perfume.” He smiled and stared a little too long at her.
Mary sucked slowly on her cigarette, looking the detective in the eyes.
Is this a date? she wondered. She’d seen Sam Kelly in the neighborhood for years and had never thought of him as anything other than a police officer. Was he married? How old was he? Get that thought out of your head, girl.
“Is that all?” she asked, smoke lazily slipping out between her lips.
The detective cleared his throat and diverted his eyes from Mary. He looked down at his pad. Mary almost giggled. He’s embarrassed. It was the first time she’d seen the little boy in Sam Kelly. She began to see what her friend, Margaret, found so appealing. Must remember that he’s Margaret’s.
“Did she ever feel threatened by her husband?”
“Did you really ask me out for a coffee to talk about police business?” Mary asked. Why not put it right out there? she thought. Margaret will kill me.
The detective swallowed deeply and looked up from his pad. “Yes,” he said apologetically.
Mary stubbed her cigarette out into the ashtray. She was angry. Once a cop, always a cop. “Joe was a chump,” she said, blurting out her words.
“He paid the bills and never asked questions. He was steady. June was spoiled. If I had met him first, I would never have left him. He was the gentlest and kindest man. June was a fool.”
Mary looked around. She saw Margaret over at the counter staring at them. Mary smiled. God, I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to steal him.
“You liked Joe.”
“I still do,” Mary replied. Then quickly added, “Not romantically. Not now. But Joe wasn’t a bad-looking man fifteen years ago.” The detective scribbled in his pad. Mary leaned back in her seat and sipped at her coffee, staring at the policeman on the other side of the table from her. Margaret came by and offered to refill their cups. Mary nodded. Margaret did not look her in the eye. “You haven’t touched your coffee,” Mary said.
“It keeps me awake.”
“Isn’t that the idea?” Mary asked.
“I’m an insomniac,” Sam confessed.
“I sleep like a log. I’m always tired. Some nights I could fall asleep in my working clothes.”
“I have no such luck,” Sam replied with a smile.
Mary looked across the room at Margaret who had returned to the counter. Margaret wasn’t smiling. She’s pissed. Mary turned to the detective.
“What do you think about when you can’t get to sleep?” Photos
Cathy moved uneasily in her seat. Adelle looked at her and then peeked behind her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Terry’s mother. She’s sitting across the room. I don’t want her to see me.”
Adelle turned around again.
“Don’t look!” Cathy whispered hysterically. “She’ll notice us. I hate that woman.”
“Who’s she sitting with?” Adelle asked.
Cathy shrugged. “One of her boyfriends, I guess. If she comes over here, I’ll die.”
Adelle sipped at the tall Coke in front of her.
“God, you don’t have to have a stroke over it. Why are you so paranoid about her?”
“She thinks I was snooping in her bedroom,” Cathy said. “Terry and I were fucking in her bed and she must have noticed something.”
“You did it in his mother’s bed!” Adelle giggled.
“She’s got a fan in there,” Cathy smiled, “and her bed is bigger.”
“And it was dangerous,” Adelle added.
Cathy nodded sheepishly.
“So did you snoop?” Adelle asked.
Cathy was silent.
“Well!” Adelle insisted.
“A little,” Cathy finally confessed. “Terry went out to get some smokes and there was nothing else to do. I was looking at some of the magazines on her bedside table. Cosmo and Vanity Fair. I opened the drawer of her 79 dresser. Checking out what kind of lingerie she bought. I came across these pictures.”
Adelle leaned forward, her mouth open, the straw in her drink hanging out of her lips.
“Pictures!” she cried.
“Keep your voice down,” Cathy insisted, then leaned over the table and whispered, “It was like a porno show. You should have seen them.
All sorts of poses. And her looking so slutty. There was even a pic of her… ”