Most Likely to Die (A Kate Jasper Mystery)

- Two -

I turned on my heel the instant I realized those rough hands were blinding me, my adrenaline flowing into tai chi. My paired knee to the groin and fingertips to the throat were almost as automatic. But by the time I got there, the hundred-and-eighty-degree turn had pulled the hands from my eyes and brought me face-to-face with my attacker. Face to laughing face.

I halted my knee’s ascent abruptly, just grazing the loose material of his pants crotch, and let my hand drop as if I’d been merely waving. Then I just stared. Because I recognized that laughing face. A broad face with high cheekbones, a wide nose, small close-set eyes, and a big fat grin. My heartbeat began thumping its way back to normal.

“Whoa, Katie, it’s me!” the face with the grin shouted. If there was anything I hated worse than being called “Koffenburger,” it was “Katie.” Then he threw his big rough hands out as if to embrace the universe and laughed again. Did he have any idea how close my knee had come?

Apparently not. He tilted his head and asked in an affected lisp, “Does the name Sid Semling perhaps refresh your memory?” before crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue.

God, it was Sid. Sid Semling, master prankster. Sid with about seventy or eighty more pounds on his big, broad frame, but Sid nevertheless. In a flash, I remembered a few dozen pieces of hilarity sparked by his constant jokes, teasing, and pranks. And a few dozen more chunks of misery. Damn. Sid would be the first person I’d see from the old gang.

I closed my gaping mouth, then opened it again to greet him. “Of course, Sid,” I mumbled, but most of my reply was lost in a new blast of music, probably “Proud Mary.”

“Lookin’ good, Kate!” Sid shouted, undaunted by the cacophony. Then he ran his eyes down my short, A-line body and back up again under the pulsating lights. “At least you’ve kept the lard off. Me,” he patted his ample stomach, “AAA puts out special Sid Semling guidebooks for fat cells. Group tours available.”

A smile jerked at my lips. I couldn’t help it.

“You know what they say about a fat man though?” he went on with a leer. I had no doubt the question was a setup for a punch line that would be both sexual and offensive. Though possibly funny too. That was the trouble with Sid.

“No, what do they say?” a deep voice asked from behind me. Wayne. I reached back and took his hand. I didn’t have to look to know it was him. Or to know that his glare was so deep that his eyes were lost under the cliff of his low brows.

“Jesus, when did they let King Kong out of his cage?” Sid yelped, jumping back in feigned fear.

Or maybe not so feigned. It wasn’t just Wayne’s brows that were scary. He had over six feet of karate-trained muscles that seemed to throb with menace when he was in protect mode. A helpful habit developed from years of work as a professional bodyguard. Not so helpful in social situations however.

“Wayne Caruso, Sid Semling,” I introduced briefly, telling myself if Sid made any more fun of Wayne, I’d finish the knee kick.

The two men grunted and shook hands without further incident. Maybe Sid had grown out of the joy-buzzers he used to carry.

“So you’re her…” Sid let the sentence dribble out suggestively.

“Her fiancé” Wayne growled as I simultaneously replied, “My sweetie.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Wayne. His brows were at half-mast. Much as we cared about each other, trying to reach agreement about our wedding plans had put a gap between us, one that even showed up semantically.

“Well, hey—whatever,” Sid said easily. “Point is, I’m having a party for the old gang next Saturday afternoon at my place. A barbecue blowout on my patio. Party hearty—”

“We’re coming,” interrupted a woman walking up next to Sid.

I stared at her and couldn’t remember her for the life of me. She was small and wiry with a pretty Asian face distinguished by a slightly turned up nose. Then she tugged at someone standing behind her. He was tall and skinny with long dark hair, an equally dark beard, and glasses rimmed in black. But it was his stooped shoulders that gave him away more than anything.

“Jack Kanick?” I guessed.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled and flashed me a weak smile before his gaze drifted away to the dancers behind us.

“And I’m Lillian, Jack’s wife,” said the Asian woman in a slightly accented voice filled with the enthusiasm that Jack’s lacked. She put an arm around Jack’s waist and squeezed. Jack brought his gaze reluctantly back as I introduced Wayne and myself. Then Lillian went on. “Jack and I are coming to the party. With our kids. And Jack’s mom, Aurora—”

“And Becky Burchell,” Sid cut in. He pointed to a blond woman dancing a few couples away. At least I thought that was the woman he was pointing to. It was hard to tell beneath the flashing disco lights, but I was pretty sure I saw Becky’s delicate features and round blue eyes under a mop of blond permed hair. And it would be just like her to be wearing the sexiest dress in the room, a slinky black number that plunged as dangerously in the front as the back.

“She’s Becky Vogel now. Kept the name, lost the husband,” Sid added. I crossed my arms uncomfortably. He could have said the same about Kate Jasper. “Becky’s a big-shot attorney. But she’s still a friggin’ wild woman, yeah-uh!”

The woman we were watching let out a
whoop
as if to agree.

“A quarter of a century gone,” Jack muttered. At least that’s what I thought I heard.

“Now, Jack,” said Lillian, tightening her grip around his waist.

“Pam Ortega’s coming too,” Sid told us. “And Charlie Hirsch.” He winked largely.

That’s right, I thought, remembering Pam and Charlie’s hasty wedding right after high school graduation.

“Are they still married?” I asked.

“No, the baby miscarried and so did the marriage,” Sid answered with a grin. I winced. Sid went on without noticing. “And my cousin Elaine’s gonna be there. She’s not a Semling anymore, she’s a Timmons. Married herself a rich one. She’s one happy momma now. And Mark Myers, he’s…” Sid made a swishing motion with his hand. Gay? I wondered. I was having a hard enough time keeping up with the names and the pictures they called up in my mind.

“And Natalie Nusser,” Sid added. He turned, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled. “Hey, Natalie!”

Natalie waved awkwardly from where she was standing beyond the dance floor talking to another woman in a severely tailored suit much like her own. Even at this distance I was sure I recognized Natalie. Her hair was short and blow-dried where it had been long before, but her body was as stiff as ever. She was still a good-looking woman, though, even pursing her lips the way she always had. Natalie had been the smartest of our group. And if rumors were to be believed, the most sexually active. Though I had never been able to believe those rumors. Sex got me thinking about Ken again.

“Is Ken coming?” I asked as quietly as I could and still be heard over the music.

“Uh-uh,” Sid said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t find the crazy s.o.b.” This time he winked so largely, the pantomime could have been sighted in outer Mongolia. “But, hey, you’ll come anyway, won’t you?”

I looked a question over my shoulder at Wayne, hoping he hadn’t caught Sid’s innuendo.

“Okay,” Wayne mouthed. I could almost hear his brain add, “If you really have to.”

“We’ll be there,” I said to Sid, thinking how good it would be to talk to Pam. And to Becky. Somewhere where we could hear each other speak. Somewhere without disco lights.

“It’s potluck,” Sid told me. “So bring some munchies. Something for the barbecue too if you want.” He winked a tiny wink this time. “Or just cash. Or expensive video equipment—”

“How about tofu burgers and a pinball machine?” I said, getting into the spirit.

“You really have a pinball machine?” he demanded, his little eyes lighting up.

Fifteen minutes later, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Because Sid really,
really,
wanted me to bring a pinball machine to his party. I told him it was too much trouble, that pinball machines rarely enjoy a ride. That they’re hard enough to keep working without moving them around. But he kept at me, finally talking me into lending him one. He said he’d come with a truck sometime this week—then he turned to Jack and talked
him
into loaning the truck—and that Wayne and I could help load on our end, and then he’d get someone else to help unload on his end. I gave in, mentally giving him Hot Flash, a machine that had been residing in my closet for the last eight years or so, a machine even my ex-husband hadn’t liked well enough to take with him when we separated. Then I grabbed Wayne’s arm and started circulating.

I still hadn’t met up with Pam or Charlie by the end of the night. Or Elaine or Mark. Though I had talked briefly with Becky, who’d smelled strongly of alcohol, and Natalie, who’d smelled more like dry ice. But Sid caught up with us again on our way out and promised that everyone I’d missed that night, I’d see at his party on Saturday afternoon.

*

A week later, Sid kept his promise. He had us all standing out on the concrete patio of his ground floor condo. The sunlight that filtered through the sheltering stand of oak trees was a vast improvement over pulsating disco lights. And the only music that mild June afternoon was the tinny whisper of the Byrds from a boombox near the unlit barbecue. We could all hear ourselves speak. Or at least hear Sid speak.

“So my good buddy Jack, here, knows this big-shot investment counselor, Harlan something-or-other, who’s traipsing off to tour Europe for the summer,” Sid was saying. He slapped Jack on the back fondly. Jack smiled weakly in the direction of his own feet. “And he talked this goon into subletting the condo to me while he was gone. Right here in Gravendale, man. At a third of what he pays in mortgage. And this guy gives investment advice! All I gotta do is keep an eye on the place. And an ear—”

“And a belly,” Sid’s cousin Elaine put in, her voice dry.

Sid threw his head back and laughed.

Elaine could talk. She hadn’t put on weight. If anything, she had lost it. Her face still had that Semling look: the high, broad cheekbones, wide nose, and small eyes. But her body was anorexically thin and expensively dressed in a white silk pants suit, shot with gold. And matching gold high-heeled sandals. I watched her watch Sid laugh, finding it hard to believe that Elaine, who’d once worn a beaded headband and frequent flowers in her hair, was now a Republican mother of three as she had already mentioned five or six times. Of course, most of us had exchanged business cards and brief occupational histories before Sid had regained the center of attention.

“I don’t really know Harlan that well,” Jack mumbled belatedly into his beard. “Just fix his car. It’s a Volvo.”

“Harlan likes you a lot,” Lillian put in quickly. “You know that.”

Jack shrugged and began humming softly along with the Byrds, his eyes out of focus. I had forgotten that he’d been musical in high school. I wondered if he still was.

“Jack and Lillian are profound centers of the community here in Gravendale,” Aurora Kanick piped up. “Their auto mechanic business is a living example of right livelihood.”

Aurora was Jack’s mom. I remembered her as a Beaver Cleaver kind of mom, shirtwaist dresses and pearls. But no longer. These days, she owned a metaphysical bookstore. And this particular day, she was wearing a short lavender and teal kimono over blue jeans. Her silver hair was pulled back into a chignon. And her eyes radiated spiritual consciousness through oversized glasses. “My son and my daughter-in-law have both touched people’s hearts in countless ways—”

“And fixed a lot of cars,” Elaine cut back in. “My BMW included—”

“Friends!” Sid enthused, throwing out his arms. “That’s the whole point. Came back home with zip and look what my old friends do for me. My buddy, Jack, finds me a place to stay. And good old Natalie gives me a job.”

He reached out an arm and pulled Natalie into its enclosure.

She stiffened and jammed her hands in the pockets of her loose linen jacket. But at least she didn’t deck him.

“Yeah, I’m Natalie’s super salesman now,” Sid pressed on. “Got Nusser Networks here a big fat government defense contract lined up. One that’ll keep the business in the legal tender for a year at least.”

Natalie nodded, then murmured, “I’d better set up the barbecue,” and pulled away from his grip.

Sid turned to Lillian, his arm reaching out for a new squeeze. But Natalie had broken his spell.

“I’d better check on the kids,” Lillian said, taking a quick side step out of Sid’s range.

“They’re great kids,” I told Aurora. By which I meant quiet and well-behaved kids. Josh, aged five, and Lark, aged eight, had been sitting on the patio drawing on giant pads of paper for more than an hour without a peep. Or maybe it was just that their peeps weren’t audible over the adult voices.

“I shouldn’t brag, but they are wonderful children,” their grandmother agreed. She steepled her fingers together. “So creative. Josh is already an artist like his mother. Lillian is a sculptor as well as an auto mechanic, you know. And Lark draws
and
sings.” Aurora paused and something sad seemed to change the shape of her serene eyes. But then she dropped her hands and it was gone. “And they both have such a profound ability to nurture and love.” Her cheeks pinkened. “But enough about my grandchildren. I hear you’re a vegetarian too.”