Hollywood Scandals (28 page)

Understatement alert.

But Aunt Sue waved her off. “No matter. This works. In fact, it’s better. Spill resistant lid.” She flipped the Tupperware upside down and shook it. “See?”

I looked from one wrinkled face to the other. Then to Cal for help. He just grinned, holding up his hands in a surrender motion as if to say, “Hey, they’re your aunts.”

“
So, you are coming with us to spread the ashes tomorrow, right?” Aunt Sue asked.

I nodded. “Right.” It was the least I could do. Especially considering Mrs. Carmichael was now residing in a leftovers receptacle.

“
Good. We’ll leave at eight. The gates open at nine.”

“
Gates?” I asked, grabbing onto the word. Suddenly I had a bad feeling about this.

Aunt Sue blinked innocently at me. “Yes. They don’t open until nine in the fall.”

“
What doesn’t open until nine?’

“
Disneyland.”

Mental forehead smack.

“
Disneyland? Wait - you’re spreading Mrs. Carmichael’s ashes at Disneyland?”

The aunts nodded in unison.

“
It’s what Hattie wanted,” Aunt Sue spoke up. “She was the first Mickey Mouse, you know. Her fondest memories are of the Magic Kingdom.”

“
It is the happiest place on earth,” Millie added solemnly.

I shook my head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not legal to spread human remains there.”

“
No one will ever notice,” Aunt Millie assured me.

I had a hard time believing that.

“
I don’t think this is a good idea.” I looked to Cal to back me up.

Thankfully, he nodded in agreement this time. “She’s right. They have security cameras all over that place.”

Aunt Millie waved me off. “No one’s going to bother a couple of old women.”

“
Dropping ashes from a Hello Kitty container?!”

“
Oh, we got that covered,” Aunt Sue assured me.

I hated to even ask. “Covered?”

She nodded. “We’re going to transfer her into one of those souvenir soda bottles as soon as we get in the park. No one will bother us carrying around a soda pop. Then we’ll just kinda tip the cup over a little and, voila, she’s in her favorite place.”

I felt faint.

“
Where exactly are you going to do this?”

“
On It’s a Small World,” Aunt Sue replied. “Hattie loved that ride. Hattie was the first Mickey Mouse, you know.”

Yes. I knew.

“
I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said for the third time in as many minutes.

But I got two pairs of bony arms crossed over two pairs of saggy boobs and two matching glares. “This is what Hattie wanted,” Aunt Sue told me. “She was taken from this world too soon. The least we can do is honor her last wish. You’d honor my last wish, wouldn’t you?”

I bit my lip. “Yes?” Only it came out more of a question.

“
Then it’s settled. We leave at eight.”

I opened my mouth to protest… but realized it was futile. With or without me, these two were going to deposit Hattie Carmichael on It’s a Small World tomorrow. Unless I wanted to spend the afternoon bailing them out of jail, I’d better make sure they did it stealth-like.

“
Oh, this is going to be so fun!” Aunt Sue said, clapping her hands. “I love Disneyland. You know, Hattie Carmichael was the very first Mickey Mouse.”

Lord help me.

* * *

The next morning I awoke to the sight of fuzzy Elvis staring down at me. Again. What I wouldn’t have given to be back in my own room.

I stumbled out of bed, rubbing my eyes, making my way on autopilot through the house toward the scent of coffee. Cal was already at the kitchen table, sipping his cup, reading the paper. Aunt Sue was frying bacon. Or, more accurately, burning bacon.

I wrinkled my nose. “I think it’s done.”

“
What?” she asked, over the sizzling sounds.

“
I think the bacon’s done!”

“
What did you say?”

“
It’s burnt!” I yelled.

Aunt Sue looked down at the blackened strips in her pan. “Oh. So it is. Oh well, I guess we’ll just have eggs,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as she reached into the refrigerator.

Just in case, I popped a couple pieces of sourdough into the toaster.

“
By the way,” Aunt Sue said, cracking eggs into a bowl, “your cell’s been going off all morning.” She gestured to my purse sitting on the counter.

I popped it open and looked at my phone readout. Four calls. All from Felix. I bit my lip. Apparently he’d read my column.

I was just contemplating putting the phone on mute, when Cal slammed his coffee cup down on the kitchen table behind me.

“
What the hell is this?” he asked.

I spun around to find Cal - a very pissed off Cal - holding up today’s
Informer
.

I guess Felix wasn’t the only one doing some early morning reading.

“
Um… my column.”

“
Obviously. Are you out of your mind?”

Aunt Sue angled around him to read it, then did a subdued little, “Oh, my,” her big, round eyes going my way.

I crossed my arms over my chest in a defensive posture.

“
What the hell were you thinking?” Cal asked.

“
What? I should just sit back and let this creep systematically destroy everything around me? I can’t go home, I’m being babysat 24/7, my neighbor’s dead, and someone’s trying to blow me up! Everywhere I go this guy is threatening me. I’m sick of it!”

“
The police-” he started.

But I cut him off. “The police aren’t doing jack. You saw them test the scene yesterday - they came up with nothing. I’m tired of chasing leads to nowhere. I’m calling this guy out in the open.”

“
And if he doesn’t turn himself in?”

I sighed. “I’m not stupid. There’s no way he’s turning himself in.”

Cal narrowed his eyes. “Then what exactly do you expect to accomplish with this bluff?” He threw the paper down on the table.

“
Don’t you watch any cop shows?”

He didn’t answer, just glared.

“
If he doesn’t want to see his name in the paper as a murderer, he’s got to shut me up before I turn in my column for tomorrow.”

Something shifted behind Cal’s eyes. “Shut you up.”

I nodded.

“
You mean-”

“
I mean he’s going to come after me, and that’s when I’ll catch him red-handed.”

A muscle twitched in Cal’s jaw. “No.”

“
What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“
No way am I letting you use yourself as bait.”

“
This isn’t about you
letting
me do anything. It’s about me taking my life back.”

“
Over my dead body.”

“
Don’t tempt me,” I countered.

Cal threw his hands up in the air. “This is dangerous, reckless and about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“
Are you calling me stupid?” I thrust my chin up, hands on hips.

He ground his teeth together. “And just how, exactly, are you planning on catching this guy before he actually silences you?”

I bit my lip. “That’s kinda where you come in.”

“
Me.” A statement, not a question.

“
Yeah. You’re the trained bodyguard. With you watching my back, we’re sure to get the jump on him before he does on me. Right?”

“
No,” he said again, shaking his head.

“
You have to. You’re being paid to keep me safe,” I pointed out.

“
But not if you’re going to throw yourself into harm’s way!”

“
Fine.” I squared my jaw. “I’ll do it myself.”

He stared at me, his nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing. “Like hell you will.”

I planted my feet shoulder width apart, matching him glare for glare. We stood like that in a total silent standoff for a full minute.

Finally Cal broke the staring contest, threw the rest of his coffee down the drain, and slammed his empty cup on the counter.

“
Fine. Let’s go to Disneyland.”

Chapter Eighteen

When I was a kid, Disneyland was just one theme park, and it was all about the kiddies. Lots of rides, no security gates, characters roaming throughout the park being mobbed by children of all ages.

Now, Disneyland has become a virtual city that’s as much for the adult members of your party as the little ones.

Downtown Disney spans a full mile of shops and restaurants, sporting such grown-up fare as the house of Blues, ESPN Zone, and Tortilla Joe’s, where the margaritas are to die for. (You know, if I was ever touching tequila again.) Past the movie theater, shopping mall, and street performers, sit the two Disney theme parks - the California Adventure and the original Disneyland. While Disneyland is all balloons and lollipops in the shape of mouse heads, California Adventure is the big kid version, featuring a winery, a ‘beers of the world’ stand, and roller coasters that launch you upside down at near NASA speeds.

I looked longingly at the twelve-foot-tall “California” sign across the walkway as the aunts grabbed me by the arm and propelled me toward the security gates on the kiddie side. Cal grumbled a step behind me, still put out that he had to leave his gun in the Hummer.

I watched a perky college kid search Aunt Sue’s huge beach tote and held my breath, hoping he mistook the Hello Kitty container for a sandwich and not our neighbor’s ashes. Luckily, he’d been trained to look for weapons and drugs, not dead people, and gave us a cheery, “Enjoy your day at the Magic Kingdom!” and waved us through.

I gave a mental sigh of relief.

Aunt Sue gave me a co-
conspiratorial
wink.

Cal gave an eye roll.

Millie gave us a, “Let’s go on the pirates ride first!”

I put a hand on her arm. “Uh uh. No way. We’re here to do one thing. We’re going to do that, and then we’re going home.”

She pouted. “But I love the Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“
And we did pay full admission,” Aunt Sue complained. “We should get our money’s worth.”

I clenched my jaw. “Fine. One ride.”

The two suddenly ten-year-old octogenarians clapped their hands with glee and led the way through the mass of tourists toward New Orleans Square.

Cal remained a silent shadow behind us.

Ever since this morning, he hadn’t said one word to me. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He’d said. “Get in,” when he’d held the Hummer’s door open for me. That was it. Clearly, this whole bait plan didn’t put him in the best mood.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t doing a whole lot for my nerves either. I’d looked over my shoulder a dozen times on the escalator ride down from the main parking structure. On the tram ride into the park, I’d done at least three double takes at the guy in the Panama hat and sunglasses seated opposite us before ascertaining that he was, in fact, just an innocent tourist and not some ominous stalker.

Even though I’d set up this whole thing, it was still a scary thought that I could, in theory, be staring straight at my stalker and not even know it. He knew what I looked like, but I had no idea who he was. Or even if he was a he for that matter.

I now knew how those ducks in a barrel felt at the county fair.

I kept my head down, staying close to the aunts, infinitely glad for the hulking bulk of Cal behind me, even if he was giving me the silent treatment.

We wound past the Jungle Cruise and Tarzan’s Treehouse, narrowly avoiding collisions with at least three strollers, and jumped into line for the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Two minutes into it, my phone buzzed from my pocket.

“
Your pants are vibrating,” Aunt Millie pointed out.

“
I know.”

“
You gonna answer it?”

Considering I was pretty sure it was Felix calling? “Nope.”

She shrugged, as if to say the younger generation’s logic escaped her.

Aunt Sue opened up her tote bag. “This ride is going to be so fun! You’re going to love this,” she said to the contents.

“
Please tell me you’re not talking to Mrs. C,” I said.

She blinked at me. “Well, of course I am. This is her trip.”

I tried not to roll my eyes.

“
Did you just roll your eyes at me, young lady?”

Okay, I didn’t try all that hard.

“
Let’s just get this over with,” I mumbled as the line crept forward.

Fifteen minutes later we were being hustled into a soggy boat by a guy dressed like he’d just escaped from some 1980s version of
Pirates of Penzance
. The aunts took the front seat (‘cause Millie complained she couldn’t see a darn thing from the back) and Cal and I scrunched into the middle, while a family of four was seated in the seats behind us.