The Immaculate Deception (31 page)

“
He found what? Who found what?”

“
Go away, Oh-Donna. Far, far away.” It appeared as though those words pained him. So he was telling me to beat it but with a tone that he was sorry to see me go?

“
Thanks, by the way.”

I gave a phony smile. “You’re so very welcome, honey.”

He returned his gaze to the Ben Franklin portrait.

I scurried over and heaved the couch away from the wall. There was nothing on the floor at the back of it. “What did you do with the money?” I swear I saw a tear welling up in the giant’s eye. “Perry, what did you do with all the uncut, two-faced hundred-dollar bills?”

“
He stole them.”

“
Who?”

“
My mother’s murderer.”

I remembered the tabloid article about Vera Blandings’ body found in the tub with a sheet of hundreds stuck to her back.

“
Perry, who did this to you and your poor mother?”

“
It doesn’t matter now. I still have no proof. But it must be…it just has to be him. I didn’t catch him. I failed Mommy. I’m so sorry, Mommy.” Huge tears flowed down Perry’s face. It was as if he’d put off grieving and now the horror of his teen years had come back with a fury.

“
Perry, is your life in danger?”

“
Of course. You know how many felons I’ve sentenced?”

“
No, I mean is the person who murdered your mother likely to come after you?”

“
No. He got what he wanted. Money. Mommy’s money. My money. Daddy’s money.”

“
Daddy’s money?” In the basement, before he died, Daddy had told me that Momma demanded the money from him. But Perry kept referring to the bad guy as a “he”, so it couldn’t be Momma. This was not making much sense.

“
Donna, you’d better go away. Run far.”

I suppose I should’ve begun to feel scared. Hey, why did he call me Donna? Not Oh-Donna? “Perry, if someone is after me, you’d better let me know. I mean, a girl likes to know little things.”

“
Thanks, Sis.”

I huffed. “Thanks for what? Make up your mind, will ya? Perry, you make no sense. Are you on drugs?”

“
If you didn’t cover the arson well enough, I don’t know how much I can finagle for ya.”

“
Arson?” Hey, wasn’t this a twist. The guy who’d wrongly put my mother in an insane asylum had gone cookoo himself.

“
You should’ve thought a little deeper into things. It was a good plan, in theory.”

“
Perry, do you have any idea where Momma might have gone?”

“
Chloe no longer exists.”

“
What? No, she isn’t dead… What do you mean?” My voice cracked.

“
We don’t have parents. We’re orphans.”

“
Is Momma dead? Was there an accident? Did you kill her?”

“
Just leave, Oh-Donna.” He waddled over and opened the door. He stomped out and disappeared into the elevator. The doors closed before I could hop in.

~*~

I retrieved Daddy’s Chrysler from the parking space. Should I drive over to the gym and see if Tammy dear knew what the heck got into Perry’s pork chops and turned him nutty? It seemed like he was genuinely concerned for my safety at some point. However, he was still mean. Why didn’t he question how I knew about the counterfeit bucks? Who had stolen the money from me, Perry, Daddy and Vera Blandings? Was the pirate still alive and thieving? Old Hundred Dollar Bill? He’d said he wanted the money.

A long horn blow caused me to make the decision to turn right and head back across the river to Virginia. I needed to find Momma. Oh God, forgive me for not reporting her missing. I just thought she might be arrested for something. How could she? She hadn’t done anything. No matter what Daddy and Perry had said about her. I knew the woman. Perry had said she was dead. No. I would not believe that. I would find Momma. Perhaps she would find me when I least expected her.

I fished around in my purse, trying to locate something to wipe my eyes with. Nothing. Dag nabbit. I reached under the seat at a stop light. Yeah, I felt a paper napkin. I yanked hard. A one-inch corner was all I emerged with. I used my sleeve. Wiped my nose on it too.

I pulled over into the grocery store parking lot. Draping my arms across the steering wheel, I let my head thud down on it and cried.

Before wiping snot on my three-quarter-length cotton sleeve again, I decided to buy a box of tissues. I slammed the car door and stomped into Giant.

Hmm…salad bar was still on special this week. Oh good, they had my favorite pasta salad.
No, Donna, no. Carbs. Don’t continue blowing all the progress you’ve made
. I grabbed a Diet Coke out of the cooler and a package of smoked almonds from the point of sale rack. I almost got in line before realizing I forgot the damned tissues. I stomped down the main aisle and found some on sale at an end display. I grabbed a box decorated with palm trees. I loved palm trees.

I tossed my purchases onto the conveyer belt and then opened the tissues and blew and wiped while waiting to be rung up. I noticed the cashier used hand sanitizer after she gave me my change.

Back in the car, I unscrewed the lid on the half-warmed soda bottle. I hated the big plastic bottles. Twenty-four ouncers or whatever they were. Yeah, you got more beverage for your buck than in a skimpy can but it was never cold. Aluminum cans, they were icy. I hated plastic.

I sucked and gobbled the almonds. I felt really sleepy. I shouldn’t drive like this. It was raining anyhow. So I stretched across the front seat and tried to forget everything.

A smile gently crept upon my face. I heard wind chimes. Gentle wind chimes. I could see the wind. All of the rainbow colors of the wind. A melody drew me forward. Oh wow. Elvis. “Suspicious Minds”.

~♥~

I heard splashing and opened my eyes. Looking down, I spotted him, immersed in a swimming pool. I said, “Hey you, come on over and step back into my dream. I really could use a big hug.”

I watched his bulging muscles flex and contract as he lifted himself out of the cerulean water. Oh yeah. I was being entertained.

He wrapped his arms around me. I shivered at the cold water sprinkling off him on to me.

My dream lover said, “Cinderella, what’s the matter?” He stepped back but kept his hands snuggled on my hips. “You’re shaking. Are you scared of me?”

“
Should I be?” At this point, I didn’t know who the enemy was or what the heck the holy grail could be.

He moved his hands to mine and gently caressed them. Looking into my eyes, he said, “Oh never, love. I’m your mate. I will never do anything to hurt you.”

I wanted to believe him. Really I did. I had no reason to be suspicious, well, other than the song that drew me into this dream. A song about a man pretending he had innocent relationships with old “friends” and his wife just didn’t trust him. Sounded like Momma. And Daddy for that matter. Boy, was he jealous. Detective-fying her all over the place. I remembered when she used to get her hair done every Thursday night. Daddy had insisted on chauffeuring, he whispered to us kids that she was sneaking around with one of the young interns. Yeah right. Fifty-something nurse, already retired from one career and a young doctor who was hot over her. Give me a break. She was pretty and still had a nice figure, courtesy of her tummy-smoothing undergarment.

I felt water dropping on me again. This time it was rain.

Mr. Jones wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said, “Come, love. Let’s get in out of the weather.”

I dutifully followed him into what must have been a cabana. I didn’t know for certain as I’d never been in one. If nothing else, it appeared to be a small building with a full bathroom, a room with two chairs, a small cocktail table and a telephone. Mr. Jones excused himself and went into the bathroom. I plopped down in a chair. As it reclined backward, I pulled a little unthought-of muscle in my back and bumped my head on the wooden slat. “Ouch. Dag nabbit.” I sat up and wrestled with the catches on the chair until finally getting it adjusted to an upright, yet slightly reclined position.

Mr. Jones emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed in blue linen shorts and an unbuttoned white golf shirt, with just the right amount of chest hair exposed. I wanted to put my fingers on it and play. He was running a fine-toothed comb through his towel-dried hair.

I said, “You look great.”

He smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He crammed the comb in his front left pocket. “Come on, love, let’s go and get some nice hot tea.” He extended his hand.

“’
Kay.” I felt my dimples as I gave him my little hand. We left the cabana place and strolled under a covered pathway to what must have been the main house. Entering through the sliding glass door into a kitchen, I suddenly had a gut instinct that something bad happened here. Tammy told me she felt that way once when she was looking at apartments. In one of them, she said she felt like someone had been beaten there. She didn’t rent it. Now I knew what she was talking about.

My mate said, “Go ahead, love. Sit down whilst I turn the jug on to boil.” I did. I sat at a barstool at a counter overhang. “Whose house is this?”

“
It’s the Blandings’ place.”

“
Vera Blandings?”

“
Right.”

I started hyperventilating. “She was murdered here! In the bathtub…not in the cabana bathroom, was it?”

“
No. And she didn’t drown in the bathtub.”

“
What do you mean she didn’t drown? She is dead, right?”

“
Will be soon.”

Oh great. I thought I was going to throw up. “No! I won’t let you do it!”

The copper kettle whistled.

“
Fine, so I won’t make the tea. I thought you wanted a nice hot cuppa. Perhaps you’d like to have the honors of serving?”

“
Stop it. I mean I won’t let you kill her.”

His expression turned scary. Scary because I instantly knew I hurt his feelings. “I am no murderer. If you don’t know me by now then I’ve failed at my calling.” I stuttered and ran over to him. I grabbed his arm, he brushed me off.

“
I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m just so confused. Nothing makes sense. Well, yeah, some stuff does but it’s like trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle in the pitch-black with some pieces missing and others that don’t belong anywhere like red herrings.”

He said, “Cinderella, I can’t help you if you don’t believe.”

“
Believe what?”

“
That I’m your soul mate through history. My purpose is to help you unravel the mystery of who you are and why your family is the way they are. Once you’ve come to an understanding and have made peace with your lot in life, only then can we move on to our Shangri-la.”

“
I trust you, Mr. Jones.” I hugged him.

He hugged me back. And then he poured the tea. Thunder cracked. I watched the lightning out the window over the kitchen sink. Actually, it was a nice lightning bolt, if there was such a thing.

We each sat on a swivel barstool and sipped the sweet hot liquid. Yum.

I asked him, “What is our Shangri-la?”

He smiled warmly. “Our Shangri-la is a very special place that only a chosen few get to visit. It’s just shy of heaven.”

“
Is it better there?”

He grinned.

“
How much longer do you think it will be before we get to go?”

“
It has to get worse here before it gets better, love. But don’t worry about the journey. You’re a strong woman. And you are never alone. Not really.”

“
I’m never alone?” Was that an eerie threat? “What—” I caught myself. I didn’t need to get this guy mad.

“
What year is it?”

“
1970.”

I popped up and carried both of our china cups to the sink and washed them. Dream boy found a towel and dried. We grinned at one another.

“
Come on, love.”

“
All right. Where to?”

“
To the conversation pit.”

I followed him into the orange-carpeted living room. We descended three steps into a six-by-six area filled with large pillows. Psychedelic patterns. A freestanding avocado green metal fireplace at one end. It wasn’t lit. We sat down. Hey, this was pretty comfy. I stretched out and snuggled my head on his lap. He slipped his arm beneath my breasts.

My eye caught upon a portrait on the wall across from us. It looked like one of those where you send a photograph off to an artist and they paint a portrait from it. It was a traditional posed family portrait. Vera Blandings, tall, thin, brunette, with legs up to there. Two little brunette girls, about two and four, I’d guess, all in ribbons and bows. And a wolfishly handsome man—with the darkest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I sat up. “Hey, I know him.”

“
Bill Blandings?”

“
Yeah. Only he was a pirate when we met.”

“
He and your mother were an item, you know.”

“
No!”

“
Yes. And when Vera found out, she shot him. Thus the pirate.”

“
She shot his eye out? What a horrible thing to do. Hey, no, my momma wouldn’t be running around with a married man. You must be wrong.”