A Little Learning (14 page)

Despite the brightness in her eyes, she looked tired and frail. I thought we should give her a little space. “I may have a lead in this case. You won’t mind if we come back later, Tori?”

“Oh, my, no. While you’re gone, I’ll continue to look for clues to the riddle.”

“Good idea.”

We left her staring earnestly at Cousin Barnaby.

“Did you make that up about having a lead?” Jerry asked as we walked down the dark hall to the front door.

“No, Misty May has a Bufo card in Rossboro we need to see. And I felt Tori had had enough for today.”

“Rossboro. That’s convenient. Didn’t you want to check it out?”

“We can go right now.”

Jerry opened the door for me. “Mac, I need to go to Parkland, remember? Check with Del?”

“Why don’t we see if there are some pawn shops in Rossboro?”

“Del will probably have exactly what I need.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“I don’t know his number. He keeps changing it.”

“I wonder why.” I unlocked the car. “Okay, get in. We’ll swing by Del’s. You know where it is, right? Or does he keep moving?”

“Pot Luck Alley.”

“Oh, good. The classy part of town.”

We got into my car. “Now I have to figure out exactly why Tori’s mad at Nathan,” I said.

“Maybe he sided with Elijah against her. Maybe they had a knock down drag out fight.”

I started the car, and we drove down the long driveway. “I can’t imagine her getting mad at anyone.”

“Maybe she and Nathan had an affair. A torrid affair, get it?”

“I get it, but I can’t see it. She’s so timid.”

“Bet she wasn’t always timid.”

“All right, suppose she and Nathan had a fling. Aaron doesn’t sound like the kind of man who’d just give up and leave town.” I stopped at the end of the drive. “Pot Luck Alley? Are you sure?”

“So we need some classy music.” Jerry turned on the CD of
Tales of Hoffmann.

I recognized the tune. “This is the I Have Eyeballs song.”

“‘J’ai des yeux.’ Not eyeballs. Eyes.”

In the opera, a very strange man gives Hoffmann special glasses so he sees a doll as a living woman. The man has a long song about all the eyes he has, eyes of flame that can see into the depths of the soul, things like that. It’s peculiar.

As Jerry hummed along, I wondered again why this opera was the feature presentation. When we first came to Celosia to see the house, he was listening to
Paul
Bunyan.
Its themes of once in a blue moon fit perfectly with our new situation: his new house, my new agency. During the Mantis Man case, he listened to
Faust,
its passionate arias underscoring our growing attraction and final declarations of the love we’d always had for each other. But I couldn’t make
Tales of Hoffmann
fit. It’s his favorite opera, so maybe this meant he was feeling good about life in general.

“What’s this part?” I asked.

“‘Take them and you will see what you want to. Take my eyes, my living eyes, my eyes of flame, my eyes which pierce the soul, take my eyes.’”

“Okay, I’ll take them. Can’t Hoffmann figure out this woman is just a mechanical doll?”

“Not until he breaks his glasses.”

“So weird.”

“His friend tries to tell him, but he won’t listen. He’s in love.”

Take them and you will see what you want to. “I like the next song better.”

We drove on to Parkland with Olympia’s sparkling “Doll Song” playing. Jerry attempted to sing along, but was overcome with fake coughing as the aria’s high notes became too difficult.

“Stick to the Eyeball Song,” I said.

***

Del’s place in Pot Luck Alley looked a lot more like a pawnshop than Foster’s, dark and cramped. I expected Del to be along the lines of Bilby, but he was a surprisingly tall and handsome man who looked as if he belonged in an upscale clothing store.

“What’s up, Jerry? Whatcha need?”

“A gold pocket watch, preferably with an ‘S’ engraved on it.”

“Let me see what I got.”

There was just enough room in the corner for a Plexiglas counter, a stool, and a cash register. Every other inch of Del’s shop was crammed with appliances, guns, and things I didn’t recognize. Del reached into the dark recesses behind the counter and pulled out a faded cardboard box. He put the box on the counter.

“Should be a few in here. Who’s the lovely lady?”

“My wife, Madeline. Mac, this is Del Costello.”

We shook hands. “A pleasure,” Del said. “Are you part of Jerry’s scheme?”

“No,” I said. “I’m a private investigator.”

His eyebrows went up. “Really? We might be able to do each other some favors in the future.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Too bad you’re not in on the game, though. You’d make a stunning distraction.”

“Thank you.”

“Del,” Jerry said. “Wife.”

“Force of habit, pal.”

The box was filled with pocket watches. Jerry took each one out, examined it, and then set it aside. Most of the watches were made of what looked like tin and were dented and scratched. One that looked as if it were made of bronze fell apart, little springs bouncing everywhere.

“Whoops,” Jerry said, trying to retrieve the bits.

Del laughed. “That’s okay. I doubt the owner’s coming back for that one.”

“This all you got?”

“Yep. What about that one?” He pointed to a watch that looked gold, but when Jerry took it out of the box, the gold color came off on his fingers.

“I don’t think that one will work.”

“That’s the only gold one I have. Although, there might be some in another box.”

While Del rooted through the mounds of boxes, Jerry took out more watches, each one more pitiful than the last. “This is just junk.”

“Well, there’s been a run on pocket watches lately. I think some of our acquaintances are shooting for a Jam Auction at the furniture market next month.”

“Former acquaintances.”

Del paused in his search. “Really?”

“This is my last.”

Del gave me a look. “Any particular reason?”

Jerry saw the look. “I’ve had a good run. I need to get out while I can.”

“So you need to go out in style.” He blew the dust off another box and brought it to the counter. “Who’s the mark?”

“A couple of women in Celosia.”

“Celosia? Slim pickings there, I’ll bet.”

“I’ve made a lot of friends.”

“Why not tell these women you can’t find what they’re looking for?”

Jerry looked through the second box. “I may have to.”

“Have they paid in deep?”

“I’ll be giving their money back anyway.”

This was news to me, but I didn’t say anything. Del looked equally surprised.

“You’re serious?”

“Like I said, I can only push my luck so far.”

“So you don’t want to hear about the Jam Auction. Or Toby’s Charity Raffle?”

“No, thanks.”

“Charity Raffle?” I said. “That almost sounds honest.”

Jerry took out another sad looking watch and put it back in the box. “Not this one, Mac. Toby gets a big stuffed animal and a roll of tickets. People buy the tickets for a chance at the toy, somebody wins, and all the money goes to charity. Well, maybe a third of the money.”

“And I take it a Jam Auction isn’t about preserves?”

“Nope. It’s a similar scam. Usually involves watches, too. Excess stock. Special Sale. One Day Only.”

“On that one, the mark actually ends up buying back his own money,” Del said. “It’s a thing of beauty. I’d tell you all the details, Madeline, but we have to keep some professional secrets secret.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “If I need the details, I know who to ask.”

The search through the second box was just as unsuccessful. Jerry shook his head. “Why is it so hard to find one gold watch?”

Del grinned. “Are these women likely to come after you with a shotgun?”

I thought Flossie Mae might, but not Sylvie. She’d just look at him with sad, disbelieving eyes. Somehow I knew Jerry was trying to avoid that look.

Jerry pushed the box across the counter. “Thanks, Del. Let me give you my number. If you hear of a gold watch, call me.”

“One last try, buddy,” Del said. “Fred and I are going to play some twinkles at the Pyramid. You sure you don’t want in?”

The Pyramid is one of Parkland’s fancier gay bars. “Twinkles?” I said. “That doesn’t sound very politically correct.”

“That’s not a term for my people,” Del said with a grin. “A twinkle’s any reflective surface you can use to see cards. Jewelry works great, and it’s not a problem at the Pyramid. Everyone’s very festive, especially for the Red Ribbon Ball.”

“I wish you every success, Del,” Jerry said, “but I no longer twinkle, thank you.”

“If you change your mind, it’s Saturday night. Great fund raiser for AIDS research.”

I waited until we were back in the car before asking my question. “You’re giving Flossie Mae and Sylvie their money back?”

“Yes. I’d still like to find a watch, though.”

“You know, your reputation as a psychic is no longer at stake.”

“I’ve still got time.”

“Anywhere else in Parkland you need to go?”

“No, thanks. I appreciate the detour to Del’s. If you turn right here and go down West Avenue until you get to I-40, from there it’s about thirty or forty minutes to Rossboro.”

Traffic on I-40 was crazy, as usual, but we arrived at the Rossboro exit without being sideswiped or rear-ended. The exit was bristling with signs for every known fast food restaurant. We stopped at Wendy’s for drinks and drove on into town, passing many car dealerships, a Wal-Mart, and strip malls filled with tanning salons, video rental stores, and more restaurants. The downtown area looked like a smaller version of Parkland.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything special about this place,” I said.

“They have a nice park.”

“Nice park” was an understatement. In the center of town was a huge park, lush and green with walkways, bike trails, benches, and a large fountain in the center, water splashing from the mouths of smiling stone dolphins. Bordering the park on the far side was a row of antique shops. On the left was a baseball field and tennis courts. On the right was an amphitheater and a courtyard with tables and chairs.

“This is amazing,” I said. “Was all this here when you and Jeff were playing your knife game?”

“It had just been built.”

I admired the park and had to admit it looked busy compared to Celosia’s calm streets.

“It’s not that far away from Celosia if you wanted to open an office here,” Jerry said.

“It’s something to think about.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Clover and Fourth.”

“That sign says Third Street.”

I turned around the park past Third Street and down the next block to Fourth.

“There’s MacDonald’s,” Jerry said. “Rossboro Baptist Church, Rossboro High School, home of the Fighting Roosters.” He chuckled. “Somebody told me they used to be called the Fighting Cocks back in the Fifties. He told me this great joke about—”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll just leave it at roosters.”

At the corner of Clover and Fourth was a large office building. I found a parking place across the street. We got out, crossed the street, and went inside. Misty May’s name was listed on a directory. She was in Suite Fifteen on the fifth floor. We rode the elevator up and found Suite Fifteen. Misty May’s secretary, a pleasant-looking older woman, told us she’d let Ms. May know we were here, but things were hectic this afternoon, so she could probably only spare a few minutes.

“We just need a few minutes,” I said.

The secretary pressed a button on her phone and said, “Ms. May, Ms. Maclin is here.” She smiled. “Go on in.”

Misty May was tall and blond. She had on a gray suit and a peach-colored blouse that should have clashed with her coloring, but instead, enhanced her pale good looks. She shook hands with both of us and indicated the chairs in front of her desk.

“Nice to meet you folks. Here’s the card. I don’t know how it could help you.”

The card showed Bufo with his crown, scepter, and smug, “Ha, Ha, I fooled you all” expression. I handed the card to Jerry. “Look familiar?”

“It’s the king card.”

“Just like the one in Amelia’s packs.”

“Yes, and in Nathan’s.”

“It has to mean something.”

Misty May shrugged. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know what it means. Elijah just handed it to me. He was laughing, as I said, so he must have thought it was funny. You can have it.” She kept looking at Jerry. My husband is the kind of man women look at, but this was a more calculating gaze. “Excuse me, Mister Fairweather, but have we met? You look very familiar.”

Jerry didn’t even blink. “I was thinking the same thing. Did you go to Parkland High?”

“No, that’s not it. I believe I saw you just a few years ago here in town.”

Uh-oh, I thought. Was she one of the many people taken in by the knife trick?

Jerry wasn’t at all flustered. “You probably saw my brother Tucker. He looks very much like me. He’s in a touring company called ‘Broadway on the Road.’ Did you see
Company
? He was in the revival.”

“That must have been it. I remember it was a show of some kind.”

I thought Jerry’s lie was very smooth, but I could tell she wasn’t completely convinced. I also thought we’d better leave before she figured things out. Fortunately, her secretary called to tell her a client was here. I stood up and offered my hand. “Thanks so much for your time, Ms. May.”

She shook my hand, but she was still looking at Jerry. “Sorry I couldn’t help you. You folks have a nice day.”

“How much did you take her for?” I asked Jerry as we rode down the elevator.

“You know, it’s all a blur.”

“A few more minutes, and she would’ve had you.”

“But your timing was great. Didn’t you get an adrenaline rush?”

“More like a panic attack.”

The elevator doors opened, and we walked out of the building into the bright afternoon sun.

“I just don’t have a lot of time,” I said. “And I can’t forget those paintings I haven’t finished.”

“You’ll make it.”

“Do I look that anxious?”