The Immaculate Deception (30 page)

I made Momma’s bed and fussed around, displaying her eleven assorted throw pillows just so. I wanted it pretty for when she came home. I found myself humming. Hmm…I was still wearing my pajamas. I’d borrow something of Momma’s so I didn’t have to drive straight home.

I opened the dark walnut closet door. “Tammy! Darn your greedy little perky butt!” The closet was empty. I stomped over to the lingerie chest. I opened the drawers one after another. They were filled with unmentionables except for the bottom one, which was full of old junky papers. Yellowed newspaper clippings. I glanced through them. A recipe for corn pudding. An article announcing Perry’s appointment to the court. An article on lens replacement surgery for cataracts. I remembered her trying to talk Daddy into this. He’d have been able to see if he went through with it. Next was a recipe for lemon meringue pie. Oh yeah. This was delicious, she used to make it in the summers. I unfolded a big sheaf and folded it back up. JFK’s obituary. Momma had been one of his bodyguards. She must’ve been devastated.

I emptied the drawer and neatened the pile on my lap. I tried to shove them back in. But they caught on something. I tugged the drawer out until it locked in place. There was a crumpled-up piece in the back. I wrestled it out, it ripped a little bit.

Chapter Thirteen

I
stuck it on top of the others and smoothed it out. I resituated and sat on my feet. The headline caught my attention.

Dag nabbit, there was a chunk missing.

Another chunk missing.

There was a big smudge over her last name.

I swelled up with pride. Wow, my momma did crack the counterfeit case. I guess that meant that the report I found earlier was real. Momma must have used the lingerie chest to store some of her Secret Service memorabilia. Even though keeping a top-secret document probably wasn’t all legal.
Right.
I tried adding up the facts in my head. So Bill Blandings, Hundred Dollar Bill, hadn’t been alone stealing the money. He’d been in league with that guy Myron Wimpledink and his girlfriend. Even two Secret Service agents had been dirty. And Momma had busted all of them. Sweet. I slipped the articles back in the drawer and shoved it closed.

I stepped across the hallway to Daddy’s room. Nothing left in there but his dresser. And two old plastic milk jugs that he used for urinals. Maybe his dresser would also be a treasure chest like Momma’s. After all, he had told me that the veterans’ insurance policy in which he allegedly named me as beneficiary was in there. I probably had missed it the first time around when I searched his dresser. I rifled through his belongings. Nope. Again. Not in here. Well, I guess I should have known. Nothing but black socks with the sides slit and half unraveled. I pictured him doing that with toenail scissors to give him some relief from his swollen feet and ankles. Tammy had taken everything else.

I remembered Daddy’s last words. Daddy’s last words, how sad. He wanted me to have his memorabilia. It was in the boxes in the attic over the carport. I resisted my urge to groan about being left with a bunch of spidery junk. Still, it made sense now, considering I wasn’t his biological daughter. Of course, my siblings inherited the estate. Such as it was. I really didn’t think they’d have much to divvy up after the bills were paid since the house was a handyman’s special, more like a handyman’s nightmare. Plus the greedy real estate people’s fees. Oh that Carla Calamari was a piece of stuff. She thought she was all that.

I walked out to the carport. The hatch was open and Daddy’s car was more or less centered underneath it. So I hopped up on the hood. Wait. It was going to be pitch-black in there. I retrieved an old red flashlight from the glove box. I pressed the switch and it faintly glowed. The batteries still had a little life in them but they wouldn’t likely hold out long. I’d have to hurry. I climbed back onto the hood. Yuck. Dusty, dirty. I leaned on the windshield and gingerly slid my body onto the roof. There I lay, facedown, spread eagle. My minor fear of heights kicked in.

Clutching the flashlight, I raised up to a sitting position. Then kneeling. And finally I braved up to standing. Hey, this wasn’t so bad after all.
Shoot
. Old bully next door was creeping around. I heard him taking a leak. I stood on my tiptoes and shined the light on inside the attic.

Hmm…nothing up here. I turned around. Nope, nothing. I spun all the way. It was eerily vacant. I shakily knelt back down and slid off the car.

Tammy
. Should’ve known she’d clean the attic out too. I would just have to let her know that Daddy had wanted me to have his treasures. She wouldn’t care. She’d think they were junk. If they didn’t glitter, they wouldn’t make her heart go pitter. Dumb rhyme. That’s why I wasn’t a poet. Or a songwriter. I couldn’t write a non-fingernails-on-the-blackboard haiku if you threatened to paint mine blue. Hey, that rhymed. I laughed at my stupid ramblings. I wondered if Ashley was any good at songwriting. Maybe I could talk her into letting me read some of her portfolio. I guess that’s what songwriters called their bodies of work. Didn’t really know. Manuscripts wouldn’t be right.

I headed home.

~*~

I made up my mind that I was not going to be frightened to live in my own house. Whoever had broken in here could get in again but he likely found what he was looking for. If it had been Perry, I didn’t think I was in any danger. If it wasn’t him… I’d be waiting. Waiting with what? I wrestled Momma’s big old pocketbook out of my blue tote bag and removed the brass letter opener. She always carried that for protection. I had a letter opener and I was not afraid to use it. I posed in front of the foyer mirror.

Wielding the mighty sword, I looked silly in my pajamas. Like a pirate making a sailor walk the plank.
Pirate.
I remembered the pirate in my dream.
Billyboy. Bill Blandings. Hundred Dollar Bill.
Momma had busted him and his counterfeiting friends. No wonder he wanted his money back. It started making sense now.

I dropped the letter opener on the foyer table, went upstairs to weigh in. Yes! One hundred twenty-nine and seven-eighths pounds. I cracked the scale under one hundred and thirty! I got dressed.

Back down in double time, I reheated the Chinese food. It was glorious, carbs or no carbs. I cleaned up the sticky mess and decided to go and pay a visit to Perry. Just to see what he was up to. Maybe I’d confront him about the burglary and the uncut hundred-dollar bills. And the badge and panties too. The phone rang. I checked the caller ID.
Payne, Perry
. I picked up. “Hello.”

“
Oh-Donna, Perry here. Thank you.” He was whispering.

“
Perry, I was just thinking about you—”

“
You are brilliant.” His whisper gushed.

“
I was going to come over to visit you at work, if it’s—”

“
No, actually you’d better keep your distance for now.”

“
Why?”

“
You know…”

“
I know what?”

“
The fire.”

“
What fire?”

“
Yeah, you’re good. Keep that up. Anyhow, I’m due back in court. And that bit about fooling old Doc Goldfarb into thinking you had a head injury, just brilliant, Sis. Gotta go.” He hung up.

So did I. What in the devil was he babbling about? Well, one way to find out. I grabbed my letter opener, my large blue pocketbook, keys and wallet. I locked up and set out for a visit to the judge’s chambers.

Stepping out my front door, I saw the back end of the white mail Jeep, so I decided to walk over to the corner and check my box. I exhaled at the sight of another of my self-addressed stamped envelopes. A Cary Grant stamp plus the extra few cents of make-up postage stamps due to the rate increase. This one was from Beegeevers Books. It felt thick. My heart went pitter-patter. I carefully opened it. I extracted a form rejection letter and my self-addressed stamped postcard. Instead of returning the postcard when they opened my submission, so I’d know they received it, this one decided to wait and send it back with the rejection. I shoved the contents back in the envelope, closed my cubby box and stuffed the letter into my purse.

“
Hello, Donna.”

I looked up at Officer Dick. In uniform. No, not boxers. His police uniform.

“
Hello.”

Awkward pause. I said, “I…”

He removed his mail and closed his box.

Scooby Doo-ette circled the mailbox. She pooped.

“
Hey, this is the dog that licked my feet, you know, in the shower?”

“
You want to press charges?”

“
Against the dog? No. Why would I want to do that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got to go now. Pressing business. Well, see you around.” He crossed the street.

I followed him. “Wait. Dick?”

He turned.

“
I want to help you.”

Scooby Doo-ette started barking like crazy.

“
Help me?”

I could hardly hear him over the racket. “Yeah,” I shouted back. “You said…that night on my deck…you needed help.”

Now Scooby Doo-ette had jumped between us.

He looked down at her, annoyed, then looked at me with a poker face. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Donna.” He hurried over to the police car and raced off. Scooby Doo-ette calmed her nerves and trotted away peacefully.

I shrugged my shoulders. To be honest, I had felt somewhat bad for not helping him out when he’d asked for it. Not the neighborly thing to do. After all, he had been kind. Still, both my mate and my roomie Ashley, and apparently Scooby Doo-ette, wanted me to stay away from him. So since dogs had great instincts, it was probably best that he snubbed me now.

I inched the Chrysler out of the garage.

~*~

I took the long way to the courthouse, stopping on the way to buy new stamps for my manuscript submission. I wasn’t giving up hope. I would just have to find the right editor and if that meant spending a small fortune on stamps, so be it. I chose pretty ones with two birds perched on a branch sharing a devoted gaze, with the space between them forming a heart. Perfect for submitting to romance publishing houses.

I found a parking space just in front of the courthouse. The street was swarming with policemen and police cars. Probably a bomb threat or something. I asked a policeman whether it was safe to enter. He assured me that it had been a false alarm and that visitors were allowed in the building. He searched my bag as a routine measure. I jogged up to Perry’s office. I knocked and, when no one answered, stomped inside. I stashed my purse on his honor’s desk. I knelt on the couch and peeked over the rear. It was too dark, shadowy and I couldn’t really see. So I jumped up and shuffled over to the right end of the couch. I was heaving the heavy leather away from the wall when I heard the chamber door slam. I froze, cringing, waiting for some sort of accusation. The chatter from the hallway was all that wafted in the air. I slowly turned my head. My seven-foot-tall, seven-foot-wide half-brother just looked right through me.

I faced him. But he didn’t seem to see me.

“
Perry?”

He stared past me as if something in the portrait of Benjamin Franklin on his wall had hypnotized him.

“
Perry?” I walked over to him. “Yoo-hoo, Perry?” I waved my hand in front of his face.

He grabbed my arm and twisted it.

“
Ow! Hey,
stop it
!” I wrestled loose.

“
Oh-Donna, go away, Oh-Donna.”

“
Great to see you again too, Perry.”

“
We shouldn’t be seen together.”

“
Amen to that. Just as soon as I find Momma, I’m done with you. I don’t care if our paths ever cross again.”

“
What?”

“
Perry, what part of mutual loathing don’t you understand?”

He waddled his big self over to the window and twisted the blinds open. “It nearly worked.”

“
Did it now?” I had no idea what was going on in that big goose egg head of his. But I played along. Always the best way to get information.

Perry said, “Daddy died and he found it.”