Calamity Jayne Goes to College (22 page)

I noticed her swallow twice in rapid succession and I grinned down at her. That oughta give her something to sink her dental
plate into.

I finished up changing my oil, shut the hood, and returned to the car door. I pulled on the driver's door, which of course
wouldn't open, and almost swore until I remembered the punishment for said offense was painful.

As I didn't want to ask an eighty-eight-year-old lady who had to use a cane to get out of the car on the bumpy, uneven shoulder,
I opted to enter through the backseat, then crawl over into the front and behind the wheel. I got into the backseat, then
noticed the old gal up front had her headback against the headrest, apparently catching a few zs. My own gammy can go from
conversation to coma quicker than you could say "Time for clean up" after a meal.

I carefully placed my right leg over the seat back, trying to avoid kicking Great-aunt Trudy in the head, then realized I
needed to start with my left leg instead. I pulled my right leg back into the backseat and replaced it with my left one, twisting
and contorting, huffing and puffing, careful not to wake Kari's cantankerous aunt. If my luck held, Tyrannical Trudy would
remain asleep the rest of the way home and it would be a peaceful ride. I managed to get my entire body into the front seat,
but ended up wedged behind the wheel of the car. I snuck a peek at the still-sleeping woman, pulled on the door handle, and
shoved against it with my shoulder. The door popped open and I fell out on my backside.

I brushed gravel off me and got back behind the wheel. Yes! Aunt Trudy hadn't stirred. I turned the key to start the car and
cranked.
Click. Click.
I frowned and tried again.
Click. Click.

"Shit!" slipped out, and I slapped a hand over my mouth and stole a quick look at Aunt Trudy, who, thank goodness, had slept
through my slip. Now what? It was either the starter or the battery. Or maybe both.

I had just pulled out my cell phone to call for assistance--more along the lines of my brother the car dealer than AAA, which
I don't have--when I heard a vehicle close by. I used the outside mirror to look back. A Department of Natural Resources state
SUV had pulled onto the shoulder behind me. I'd know that vehicle--and the guy behind those dark shades-- anywhere. I was
really glad to see Ranger Rick. He knew a lot about cars and was cheaper than a hook. I watched his progress up to my door
with a normal, healthy woman's natural appreciation for a gorgeous guy in uniform.

He stopped and bent down at my open window. I caught a whiff of his cologne. God, he smelled good. All woodsy and earthy and
musky. I caught myself before I drooled.

"Just curious. Have you ever kept track of how many times you've broken down along the side of a road in this car?" Ranger
Rick asked. "Because I'm thinking you could qualify for the Guinness Book of World Records here, Calamity," he said.

I shook my head. "No, but I did hold the record for most pounds lost and gained back and lost again-- until Oprah edged me
out, that is," I said. "It's all good, though. There's still the most-corpses-found competition. And I've been thinking seriously
about entering that hot-dog-eating contest. I think I only have to eat fifty-four in twelve minutes to win."

Ranger Rick nodded. "It's always good to have a goal to aspire to," he said. "So, what's up with the old beater?"

"Shh!" I said, putting a finger to my lips. "She'll hear you."

"She? Your car is a she now? And she can hear? Tressa, we need to talk."

Too late I realized he was referring to my Reliant and not the elderly occupant to my right.

"Shh! You'll wake her." I pointed to Aunt Trudy, who was still sound asleep. "And trust me when I say a sleeping Aunt Trudy
is vastly preferable to an awake Aunt Trudy any day of the week," I told him.

Ranger Rick took his sunglasses off and stuck them in the tab at the top of his uniform shirt and looked over at my passenger.

"I didn't know you had an Aunt Trudy," Rick said. "Is she the lesbian?"

I shook my head. "That's my aunt Eunice," I informed him. "And this isn't
my
aunt, it's Kari's aunt. Great-aunt, actually. She decided to fly in for the wedding from Phoenix rather unexpectedly, and
Kari asked me to pick her up at the airport. But if I'd known how dangerous the transport was going to be, I'd have asked
for hazard pay," I complained. "Man, she's brutal!"

Townsend's forehead crinkled as he looked at her. I felt my fingers twitch to smooth those creases out with a soft caress.
Yes, I'm still sex starved. Deal with it.

"Are you sure she's okay?" he asked.

I looked over at her. She hadn't changed any. Still had that cursed cane gripped in her hands at the ready.

"Why? Doesn't she look okay?" I asked.

Townsend raised an eyebrow. "How long has she been asleep?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Not long enough for me. Like I said, she's brutal, man. Why?"

"She's awful still," he observed.

"So? She's a sound sleeper."

"But her chest should be moving."

I took a closer look at Great-aunt Trudy as Townsend moved around the front of the car to the passenger-side door.

"Mrs. McNamara?" I gave her a little jab in the arm with my index finger. "Aunt Trudy?"

By this time Townsend had opened the door and was crouching down beside the sleeping woman.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Trudy McNamara," I told him.

He gently prodded her. "Mrs. McNamara?" he coaxed. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She didn't stir.

"Ma'am?"

I was starting to become concerned and Townsend's gentle car-side manner wasn't helping matters, so I reached out and attempted
to pull her precious cane from her hands, thinking that would certainly get a rise out of the old lady. At first the cane
wouldn't budge. I gave it another tug. This time not only did the cane move in my direction, so did Aunt Trudy. She flopped
to her side on the bench seat like a sack of horse grain when you take a corner too fast. Her head landed in my lap. When
her sunglasses popped off and I got a look at her eyes, I knew I was right about flight 666 being bad luck. Apparently, dead
right.

Townsend reached in and felt her neck for a pulse.

"Is she... okay?" I asked.

Townsend raised both eyebrows this time. "I guess that depends on how she lived her life," he responded.

"You mean she's dead?" I asked, my voice barely a squeak. "Maybe she's just in one of those somnambu-lant states. You know.
Like a deep, deep sleep. Shouldn't we be beating on her chest or blowing in her mouth or something?" I asked, feeling the
reality of the situation begin to creep into my consciousness. "Perform CPR?"

"Be my guest, Tressa, but I'd say she was past the point of no return," he told me. "If it's any consolation, however, there
was probably nothing you could have done. How old was she, anyway?"

I felt tears begin to pool in my eyes. "A pair of eights," I answered.

"Pretty old to fly across country on your own," he said.

Before I knew she was dead I probably would have made some comment about her flying on her broomstick, but now that she was
deceased, she didn't seem so bad.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, disengaging myself from the old woman's body and then realizing I was trapped due to my
stuck driver's door. I felt my anxiety level start to rise.

"Uh, Townsend, could you open my door for me?" I asked, pretty sure I was gonna hurl my strips and fries all over the dear,
sweet, departed old lady if I didn't get out of the car soon. I already was going to have to try and explain delivering Aunt
Trudy COD as Stan called it--Corpse On Delivery. I didn't want the added chore of addressing why dear, departed Aunt Trudy
was covered in hurl.

"Just a second," he said. "I'm calling the M.E."

"Seriously, Townsend! I need to get out of the car now!" I was beginning to feel like all the oxygen around me had been sucked
up by some invisible force. My heart began to race a mile a minute. I couldn't get my breath. I had to get out of this damned
car!

I rolled Great-aunt Trudy's head off my lap and dove out the open driver-side window, headfirst, breaking my fall to the graveled
shoulder with my hands. I yelped when the gravel embedded itself into my open palms.

"What the hell are you doing, Tressa?" Townsend asked, coming around the side of the car.

I managed to crawl on my hands and knees to the side of the road and threw up in the ditch.

"Never mind," Townsend said, and I felt his hand light and gentle on the back of my head. I continued to retch. Just the way
you want a gorgeous guy to see you. Right, ladies?

One positive thing had come out of this. Those strips and fries would never make it to my hips and thighs. Still, I somehow
didn't think that would be enough for Kari. Or her great-aunt Trudy.

CHAPTER 19

I stood outside my open closet door in my bra and panties considering and then discarding one apparel item after another hanging
in my closet.

"I can't believe you waited this late to decide what to wear to the rehearsal dinner," my gramma said from her perch on my
bed.

"Well, I have been kind of busy, Gram," I told her.

"Yeah. Killing off old ladies," she said. I shuddered.

"Thanks, Gram," I snapped. "I needed that little reminder. So, tell me. What does one wear to the rehearsal and dinner?" I'd
tried to delete the details of my brother's wedding from my memory.

"A dress, of course. A nice one. But not too nice. You don't want to piss off the bride by looking better than she does."

I shook my head. Fat chance. Between the extra pounds left over from the holidays, a resolution to diet and exercise that
hadn't kicked in yet, and hair that still found a way to frizz despite a jug of gel, it was a safe bet any attention I attracted
would be more along the lines of Blackstone's worst-dressed list.

"I don't own all that many dresses, Gram," I said, sorting through more clothes and finding mainly khaki slacks and white
T-shirts I wore for my retail sideline at Bargain City, low-waisted slacks for the newspaper, and smocks for the now-gone
job at the Dairee Freeze. Quite the designer collection, huh?

"I'm surprised you had un-holey underwear," Gram said. "And that bra? It makes you look like you got no boobies."

"It's a sports bra, Gram. That's the idea. To prevent sagging so I don't end up with nipples pointing the way to my navel."

I noticed my gammy stare down at her own chest.

"You think maybe my boobies could use a push-up bra?" she asked. "When I sleep, they practically disappear underneath my armpits."

I winced. It seemed this particular ship had sailed.

"I think you should go for comfort rather than cleavage, Gram," I told her, just wanting this conversation to end. I checked
the time. "Oh Lord, I'm gonna be late and Kari is gonna kill me."

"I have some frocks you could borrow," Gram said. "Course, they'll hang on you in the bosom area. What about Taylor? Shouldn't
she have something you could borrow?"

I gave Gram a close look just to make sure she wasn't being comical. Or facetious. Taylor was a good two sizes smaller than
I was. Of course, she wasn't addicted to doughnuts and Milky Way Midnight bars and allergic to exercise like I was.

"Taylor's taste is like night and day from mine," I said. "I have a certain style that is unique to me."

"What style is that? The Bargain City Blue Light Special? You need to advertise, girl. Be a little daring. Show a little flesh."

If I had to kneel in that peach frock tomorrow, I'd be showing more than a
little
flesh.

Gram got up from the bed and moved to stand beside me at the closet door. "What about a little black dress?" she asked. "Them's
'all occasion' apparel, 'cause you can wear 'em for all occasions. And with you delivering Kari's great-aunt Trudy in a body
bag, I'd say this occasion calls for black. Why, I've worn a black dress to funerals, formals, cocktail parties, even a wedding
once."

I turned to look at her. "You wore black to a wedding?"

"The bride was a bitch," she said, sticking her head into my closet. "I know you have to have a little black dress in here
somewhere. Everyone has a little black dress." She rummaged about in the closet for a minute before she pulled out a dark
garment. "Ha. I knew it. One little black dress."

I winced. "Uh, that's the dress Mom got me to wear to Paw Paw Will's funeral, Gram."

"It is?" She held the short dress out in front of her. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I remember you wearing a long black dress
with one of them Chinese mandarin collars."

I raised my eyebrows. "That was Mom."

"Oh," she said. "Well, here you go. Problem solved." She held the sleeveless, short black dress out to me. "It's shorter than
I expected. Good for you, girl. I hope you waxed."

I shut my eyes. This was a nightmare.

"I'm not even sure I can get into that dress, Gram," I told her. "It's been years." Years of working at Uncle Frank's, where
the food was filling and best of all, free.

"You shoulda let me buy the body slimmer," she said. "But I've got a girdle if you need it. Takes two sizes off your ass."
She handed me the dress. "Money-back guarantee. Be right back."

I looked at the little black dress. It was going to be a long night.

It took me forty-five minutes to wiggle into black super-control-top panty hose followed by the little black dress. I marveled
at the tummy flattening panel of the hosiery and how it made my gut shrink. Of course, I couldn't take a deep breath, but
beauty--or in this case, skinnyness--was pain. My gammy argued--unsuccessfully--when I insisted on searching for a pair of
seven-inch Justin Black calfy boots to wear. I told Gram they made a certain statement.

"You're right," she agreed. "They say, look at me, I'm a hick from the sticks."

"I know they're in here somewhere," I said, picking up one pair of shoes after another and tossing them to the other end of
the closet floor. "I've hardly worn them since I bought them." I picked up the nearly new Nikes I'd worn the night Dixie and
I had been the victims of serious road rage, and swore. The toes of both shoes were scuffed, scratched, and dirty from my
headlong dive to safety. And the deadbeat had no insurance.

I finally found my short Justin boots and pulled them out. "Success!" I proclaimed, and hurried to slip them on, took one
last look at my face and hair, and headed out the door. And only twenty minutes late.

I could hardly tell I was entering a church sanctuary for a wedding rehearsal, the tone so funereal when I walked in. From
the looks I was getting, it was hard to figure out whether the lukewarm reception was due to the demise of Trudy in transit
or bar fight fallout from Big Burl's. Either way, I felt like a PETA activist at the annual Iowa Pork Expo.

Kari noticed me first and threw a quick look in her husband-to-be's direction before she came over to me.

"You're late. I was getting worried," she said. "Cute outfit. Isn't that the dress you wore to your grandfather's funeral?"
she added.

"No. I don't believe so," I lied. Jeesch. Had I put on a dress so rarely that when I did people committed the occasion to
memory? "I just want to tell you again how sorry I am about your aunt Trudy, Kari. I didn't know her for very long, but the
time we spent together was very memorable. She was a sweet, sweet person."

Kari gave me a you-are-so-lying look. "The woman was an ogre," she said. "She liked to kick old dogs and young children. Or
maybe that's young dogs and old children."

"Oh, really?" I said with a wide-eyed look. "I never saw that side of her. She was really quite lovely." Kari just frowned.
"So, how are things with the groom? Has he forgiven you for the Big Burl's brouhaha yet?"

"Maybe you should be asking if I've forgiven
him
yet," Kari said with a hard glint to her eyes. "Stupid, stupid man. As for you, I'd give my future husband a wide berth."

"Didn't you tell him I was the one who wanted to go somewhere else?" I asked.

Kari took my arm. "I tried to, Tressa. I really did. But he just wouldn't believe me. He kept telling me not to defend you,
and he kept going on about how it felt to see the future mother of his children being serenaded by a near-naked Pilsbury doughboy
in a seedy strip club and started getting all apoplectic again, so I thought it was best to humor him until after the ceremony.
Once we're married, I'll make sure to help you mend some fences," she assured me.

I hoped Kari had plenty of twopenny nails and two-by-fours lined up.

"Kari, the minister needs a moment of your time." Kari's mother, Donna, came up and took her arm. Normally I get a hug from
Donna. Today all I got was a wary nod. "Tressa," she said, and dragged Kari away. I looked around, wondering how much longer
it would take to get this show on the road and on to Calhoun's steak house and grill where the rehearsal dinner was to be
held. I was in the mood for a light beer or two and a nice, thick, juicy rib eye. The bride's family was picking up the tab
and I was really hungry.

"Nice dress," I heard in my left ear. Townsend, attired in an orange-and-white-striped polo shirt and belted khaki pants,
appeared beside me. "Didn't you wear it to Grandpa Will's funeral?" he asked.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with what I wear?" I said. "Besides, I'm wearing black out of respect for Great-aunt Trudy."

"And the boots?"

"Out of respect for the hundred bucks I plopped down for them," I replied. "After all, I need to get some wear out of them.
And shoes don't stay looking good very long once they're on my feet," I added, thinking of my poor cross-trainers.

"I seem to remember a certain pair of white sling-backs that became 'water moccasins' last summer," Townsend said. I sighed,
recalling a cross-country trek on shoes with less support than gel inserts.

Frankie, who was an usher, came over to join us.

"Where's Dixie?" I asked. "I noticed it was a full moon. She's not roaming the night in search of innocent victims to quench
her bloodlust, is she?" Frankie gave me a disgruntled look.

"She's meeting with her study group tonight," he said.

"Where?"

"Off campus somewhere, I'm pretty sure," he said. "She wouldn't be foolish enough to meet on campus tonight of all nights,"
he added.

The minister called everyone to their places and I warned Townsend to be on his best behavior or else. I wanted no repeats
of the monkey business at my brother's wedding--Townsend being the orangutan in question.

I strolled down the aisle to the music, pretending I was tiny and petite, and concentrated on taking slow, dainty, mincing
steps, but from the looks I was getting I guessed I still looked like I had someplace to be and wanted to get there pronto.

I caught Townsend's smile as I took my place on the dais. I sighed. Whoever said the attendants weren't supposed to outshine
bride and groom had apparently forgotten to tell Townsend. He made Brian look like a hungover understudy.

Once Kari joined us at the front of the church, I listened to the minister with half an ear, my mind on what might be happening
that very night on the campus of Carson College. Professor Billings didn't seem to think she was in any real danger, but in
my gut I knew that a murderer in training was on the prowl that night. At least Hector had agreed to double patrols, and Patrick
had promised to take several swings through the campus. That was something.

I looked down at my feet and noticed a scuff on my brand-new Justin boot and frowned. How the heck?

"And then I'll say--" the minister was saying.

"Son of a bitch!" I blurted, suddenly receiving a divine communique from the Big Guy upstairs. I shoved my pretend bouquet
into Kari's hands. "I have to go," I said, running down the stairs at the front of the church. I stopped, turned, ran back
up the stairs, and grabbed Townsend's arm.
"We
have to go!" I amended.

"Tressa?" Kari looked bewildered.

"I'll be right on time tomorrow! Early even! Pinky swear!" I told her, holding up my pinky. "But I've really got to go! I'm
on a lifesaving mission!"

I pulled Townsend down the carpeted stairs.

"This is highly irregular," the minister said.

"You don't know Tressa," Brian replied.

"What the hell are you doing?" Townsend asked as I dragged him down the center aisle past the pews.

"Hey! Stop swearing! We're in church!" I admonished.

"You just said son of a--"

I reached out and put my fingers on Townsend's sexy lips. "No reason the both of us should burn in hell."

I stopped at the pew in the back where Frankie was sitting. "Come on!" I grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. "We've
got to get to Carson College ASAP. And we're taking your truck, Townsend," I told him.

"What's going on?" Frankie asked. "What lifesaving mission?"

"Yes, Calamity. Care to enlighten us?" Townsend said.

I kept one hand firmly clamped around both reluctant men's hands and dragged them to the door of the church.

"I know who the Carson College criminal is!" I told them. "And we need to get there before they claim their final victim!
Now, who's with me?" I yelled.

"Do we have a choice?" Townsend said. "I'm warning you, if this is another one of your wild-goose chases, Tressa--"

"If I'm wrong, I'll go without chocolate for an entire month!" I blurted.

Townsend looked at me. "Have you forgotten next month is Easter? Chocolate bunnies. Marshmallow rabbits." He paused for effect.
"Cadbury Creme eggs."

My absolute, all-time favorite candy. The rat.

"If I'm wrong, I'll gladly give up Cadbury Creme eggs," I told the two. "I'll even go vegetarian for a month of Sundays."

The two men stared at each other.

"My God, she's serious," Frankie said.

Townsend nodded.

I pulled them out of the church and to Townsend's candy-apple Chevy crew cab and I jumped behind the wheel.

"No way," Townsend said, shoving me to the middle. "Nobody drives Big Red but me."

"Big Red? You named your truck?" I asked, as Frankie climbed in the passenger side. "I can't wait till this gets out. Your
macho image might take a beatin'," I said.

Townsend looked at me and grinned. "I doubt that. Lots of things come mighty big in Iowa, and we're not too bashful to brag,"
he said.

I blushed. "You do know the quickest route, right?"

Townsend gave me a "get real" look, started the truck and pulled away from the church.

"Okay, so now that you've dragged us out of the wedding rehearsal and we're all gonna miss a free meal at Calhoun's, please
tell us who is responsible for the Carson College capers and why you think that person is the culprit," Frankie said.

I filled them in. When I was done, neither fellow seemed overly impressed.