NOT What I Was Expecting (3 page)

I sat on the cushiony
blue sofa with Aunt Shirley as she reminisced about her friend Eliza and the
years they spent together in the Garden Club while CeCe made some tea. 

“Pearl and I have
known Eliza since we were young ladies, you know.  She always loved gardening. 
She was making plans for a rose trellis.  She loved pink roses.  Such a pity, she
had so much left to do, so much life left to live,” Shirley sighed.  “She was
only 82, you know.  She should have had 20 more happy years ahead of her.”

I wondered on what
planet, when CeCe walked around the staircase from the kitchen.  “Mother,
there’s a butt load of boxes piled to the ceiling in there.  What’s going on?”

“CeCe, really!” gasped
Shirley.  “Can’t you think of a nicer way to put that?”

CeCe threw her
eyes heavenward in an eye roll that would have made any teen jealous.  Then,
her age apparently kicked in, because she cleared her throat and corrected
herself, “Sorry, Mother.  There’s beaucoup de poo poo load of boxes in your kitchen. 
What might they be?”

Maybe that’s not a
gentler way to put it, but Aunt Shirley says everything sounds nicer in French.

“Pearl thought she
was ordering 15 bags of chocolate bonbons to serve at our next Senior and
Single meeting,” Aunt Shirley explained.  “It turned out to be 15 cases.  She
got a real good price, though.” 

Some of those were
going home with us.  Oh, yeah.

We heard a slam
and the familiar crisp stride of footsteps as Mother came down the hall.  She
stopped short when she saw Shirley.  “Oh crap, you already heard.  I was hoping
to get home before you found out about Eliza.  I knew you’d take it hard.”

“Suzanne called me
with the news.  How did you hear, Pearl?”  Shirley asked.

“The City Council
makes it our business to know everything that goes on in this town.  You know
that,” Mother explained.

“Suzanne didn’t
know how she died.  What was it?  A stroke?  A heart attack?” Shirley asked.

“We’re waiting for
the coroner’s report,” Mother answered her sister gently.  “The police didn’t
know for sure, so they refused to speculate.”

This set Shirley
off on a new wave of tears.  “She was such a proper lady, and genuinely good
through and through,” Shirley wept.

“Oh, come on,”
Mother huffed as she took exception to that characterization.  “You know she
offered her cookies to any man that came within 30 feet of her.  She was nice
enough and a good friend, but proper?” Pearl snorted her opinion of that
characterization.

CeCe and I knew to
stay out of this conversation.

“Pearl, how can
you say that about her?” Shirley spoke in a hushed tone, barely above a
whisper, “She’s dead.”

“Dead doesn’t
change who she was.  I’ll miss the person she was, but proper she was
not.
You need to get your mind on something else,” Mother suggested.  “I know. 
Let’s discuss my bathroom remodel.  I want everyone’s input, and then tomorrow
morning Maggie and I can go buy the things I need to get started.  Doesn’t that
sound more cheerful?”

“Can we have some
bonbons while we discuss?  Chocolate makes me more creative,” I explained.

“Me too, and I’m
feeling blocked,” agreed CeCe.

For the next hour,
we all offered suggestions that Mother completely ignored.  She decided to go
with her original idea.  Nobody expected anything different, and CeCe and I
thoroughly enjoyed the bonbons.  Even Shirley seemed to feel a little better
after five or six bonbons.  Ah, chocolate!  Thy mysterious healing properties
are kickin’!

We offered our
condolences one more time before we said our goodbyes.  I told Mother I’d meet
her at nine tomorrow morning at the Build-N-Fix-It to pick up some of her
remodel supplies, and then CeCe and I headed home.  On the drive to our house,
it looked like a beautiful night, but it didn’t feel like it.  Knowing the
sisters were upset left us upset.  We’d tell ourselves they’d be fine, and we
shouldn’t worry about them, but it wouldn’t matter – we’d worry anyway.

CHAPTER 2

The streets on the
drive to our house were practically empty.  It was only eight o’clock, but
unless it was the weekend or time for a shift change at one of the plants,
everything would pretty much grind to a halt after seven o’clock.

“CeCe, dig out
your key, will ya?” I said as we pulled into the driveway of the house we
rented together.

The apartment life
in college broke the spell of thinking “having neighbors party all the time”
was cool.  Although we used to consider living in a house with a yard way too
domestic, we’ve learned the benefit of not being subjected to the neighbor’s
loud, drunken arguments over which roommate on
Three’s Company
is
actually the funniest.  We’ve come to embrace the beauty that comes from never
knowing when your neighbors flush their toilets or take their showers.  So
living in a house with a yard might not make us wild, partying women, but
that’s kind of the look we’re going for at this point in our lives. 

“I’ll carry both
boxes of bonbons while you unlock the door if you’ll give me one for the walk
to the door,” CeCe offered.  So I loaded her up and popped a bonbon in her
mouth.

I held the door
open for CeCe, and tried to stay out of her way as she came through with the
boxes.  I couldn’t help but laugh as she tried to feel ahead of her with each
foot before she took a step.

“Don’t worry,
Sassy Cat’s not in the room.  I don’t see her anywhere,” I assured her, looking
around to make sure we weren’t being stalked.

“Oh, good,” CeCe
said as she rushed over and put the boxes on the breakfast bar located between
the living room and kitchen.  I tossed my keys into my basket, which sits next
to CeCe’s basket on the side table in the entry way.  As rental houses go, ours
definitely has more character than the norm.  That’s the main reason we picked
this place.  There are actually curved lines in it.  We love the archways to
the hall, kitchen, and dining area.  The walls, cabinets, and fireplace are all
painted a warm ivory, so we decided to go with an olive color sofa and
recliners with floral accent pillows.  There are maroon colored roses in the
mostly ivory floral wallpaper, so we used maroon accessories in the kitchen. 
The whole effect is a very warm, calm environment.  If we didn’t bring our own
chaos into this place, it would be quite peaceful.

Sassy Cat made her
appearance a few seconds later than expected.  She came prancing in rubbing
against our legs and purring.

“That took too
long didn’t it?” CeCe asks warily.

“Yes.  She’s up to
something,” I agreed while checking the room for damage but finding none.  “You
start with your bedroom, and I’ll check mine.”

“Anything?” I
yelled to CeCe. 

“No, my room is fine. 
Maybe it was a false alarm.  I don’t think we did anything to, uh-oh,” CeCe
responded.

A dead giveaway
that she’d found the destruction.

“What is it?” I
asked as I came up behind her and stared into her bathroom.  “What did you do?”

“Me?  Nothing!” CeCe
cried, sounding totally offended.

“Well, one of us
did something, because Sassy Cat would never waste her time teaching us this
big fat lesson if we didn’t,” I bellowed.

My voice was a
little loud, so I concentrated on bringing it down a notch while I took in the
carnage.  The shower curtain was in shreds.  The toilet paper was torn and
scattered all over the bathroom, and CeCe’s decorative flowers were in the
toilet bowl.

“Did you use that
perfume she doesn’t like again?”  CeCe asked accusingly.

“No, I don’t think
so,” I responded, switching into defensive mode.  We stood there deep in
thought trying to figure out exactly how we had offended Sassy Cat’s delicate
sensibilities.

All of a sudden
CeCe gasped loudly.

“They didn’t have
my usual scent of hair spray when I went shopping, but I got the unscented to
make sure that she wouldn’t be upset about it,” she confessed.  “What could she
not like about unscented?”

“Maybe it’s the
lack of scent that bothers her.  Who knows?”  I ran to the cabinet and grabbed
the suspected agitator.  “Let’s test it out,” I suggested, “before there’s
another incident.”

I followed CeCe
into the living room with the can.  Sassy Cat eyed us suspiciously from the sofa
as we entered the room.

“Okay, precious,”
CeCe said to Sassy Cat.  “We’re going to see if this is what’s upsetting you. 
Just let us know, okay?”

I walked to the
spot in the room that was farthest away from Sassy Cat and sprayed some of the
hair spray.  Sassy Cat arched, hissed, and began to shred a throw pillow on the
sofa. 

“Stop!  Stop!”
yelled CeCe.  “That’s it!  Get rid of it.  And make sure she sees you get rid
of it.”

“Sassy Cat, pretty
kitty,” I said in a sing-song voice as I headed for the door.  “See the bad
nasty can.  Bad can!”  I held it out to her as I opened the door, then
ceremoniously threw it out the front door and slammed it shut.  “Bad can,” I
said one more time for emphasis.

Sassy Cat stopped
shredding the pillow, rubbed her body against the back of the sofa, and stretched
out to take a little nap.

“How could I have
been so careless?” CeCe lamented.

“Don’t beat
yourself up about it.  You can make it right by cleaning up the bathroom,” I
suggested.

“I’ll clean the
bathroom if you’ll throw some kind of snack together.  I know we ate and then
had bonbons, but comforting the grieving takes a lot out of you,” CeCe pointed
out.  “No junk.  I want something nutritious like nachos or dip,” she ordered.

“Deal,” I agreed. 
I whipped up a quick pan of nachos and poured the diet drinks while CeCe
cleaned.  We settled down on the sofa with our plates and drinks once CeCe
located the TV remote. 

“No Magnum, P.I.
tonight,” I said.  I liked the 80's shows almost as much as CeCe, but when
you’ve seen the good ones over and over, you need something fresh.

“Oh, come on,”
said CeCe.

“Just flip around
and see what else is on, please?” I asked earnestly, and maybe a little whiny.

“All right, let’s
see what the idiot box has for us tonight,” CeCe said smiling.  I looked down
at my plate and tried to make sure there was enough cheese on the chip while
CeCe flipped the channels.

Suddenly, I heard
some kind of squeak and gurgle noise coming from the other side of the sofa.  I
looked over at CeCe, afraid she was choking.

She managed to
swallow what was in her mouth and started yelling, “Deputy Ben!  Deputy Ben!”

I looked up at the
TV, and sure enough it was him.

“Wow, he looks so
handsome and so important, doesn’t he?” CeCe said as she bounced and squealed
at the same time.

“Stop squealing,”
I ordered.  “I can’t hear what he’s saying.”

We listened in
silence until the end of his announcement.  We muted the TV but still sat in
silence for a while.

“I can’t believe
it,” I said, stunned.

“I know,” CeCe
agreed.  “My future husband was on TV, and I didn’t get to record it.  Do you
think someone will put it on YouTube?”

“CeCe, snap out of
it,” I insisted.  “Did you hear what he just said?  Our mothers’ friend Eliza
didn’t just die, she was murdered.  She was strangled in her own home.”  All of
a sudden I started taking a mental inventory of all the locks on the doors and
windows of the sisters’ house.  I was pretty sure they all worked.

“You’re right,”
CeCe said as she returned to reality.  “It’s just that the image of Deputy Ben
on TV was so overwhelming.  Sorry.  That’s really scary, huh?”

“They haven’t
caught the killer yet.  That’s what scares me,” I mumbled to myself, as much as
CeCe.

“You don’t think
we should be worried, do you?  About
anyone,
 I mean?” CeCe asked using
her calm voice, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

“They don’t live in
Eliza’s neighborhood, so probably not,” I said encouragingly.

“You’re worried
anyway,” CeCe observed.  “Me too.”

“Do you think they
heard the . . . .”

Before I could
finish my sentence, the phone rang.  We both jumped, but I got there first, so
I answered it.

“Hi, Mother,” I
greeted her.  “Yes, we heard.”  I listened while Pearl shared her concerns
about the criminal element taking over our fair town.  “I know,” I agreed since
it’s just easier.  “I know,” I agreed again, in case she didn’t hear me the first
time.  “Neighborhood watch?  That’s a good idea,” I agreed, because it was a very
good idea.  “Uh-huh, it really was quite a shock.”  This was going to be one of
those marathon phone conversations, so I sipped my diet soda in order to stay
hydrated.

Tuesday morning,
CeCe went off to open the shop while I headed for the Build-N-Fix-It.    I had
agreed to meet my mother and shop for the new faucet and light fixtures for her
bathroom renovations, so I was ready to get on with it.  Don’t misunderstand, because
I love my mother and was genuinely touched that she wanted my opinion.  She has
spent years polishing her skills as a strong, independent single mother.  I had
no delusions that my suggestions for fixtures would carry any more weight than
last night’s suggestions for the renovation.

I caught up with
Mother just as she was entering the huge automatic double door entrance to the
Build-N-Fix-It, and we agreed to start with the plumbing section first.  As
Mother and I stood and pondered the faucets, I heard a familiar voice.  Fry was
speaking to someone as they entered the plumbing supplies one aisle over from
us.

“Man, you have
got
to lighten up,” Fry advised whoever.  “The negativity oozing from you is
bringing me down.  It doesn’t agree with this tie-wearing thing you have going
on.  Why is it that you’re all decked out, anyway?”

 “Remember, I told
you I had to meet with the expansion committee from the library board this
morning, and this stop was on my way home to change,” some smooth, deep voice I
didn’t recognize answered.  “I appreciate that you’re grabbing a cup of coffee
with me before I head to the job site, but I have to pick up a few things here
before we do that.  Sorry, if I’m sounding negative,” Great Voice Guy added
with a slight chuckle.  “I really don’t know what to do about Uncle Barney.  I
mean, I’ve known for a while now that he has good days and bad days.  Sometimes
he’s talking like his old self, but other times making sense of what he’s
saying is like putting together a jigsaw puzzle blindfolded.  When you heard
him talking about his accountant the other day it wasn’t nearly as bad as
yesterday when he came back from one of his lady-admirers, and he . . . .”

 “Wait, wait,
wait,” Fry interrupted.  “You know I love Barney.  The guy’s a kick, but he’s
like 143 years old, isn’t he?  Are you telling me has more than one hottie
admirer after him?  Sweet.”

“Uh, I don’t think
they would be considered hotties unless they still have hot flashes,” Great
Voice Guy pointed out.  “These women are in their 70's and 80's.  Barney’s 83,
but tells everyone he’s only 71.  And whatever you do, Fry, please don’t tell
him you thought he was 143 years old.  He doesn’t even weigh 143.  Maybe
soaking wet but .  . . ”

“Women chasing you
in the home stretch of this big race we call life,” marveled Fry.  “Dude,
that’s a reason to live long and prosper.  He’s livin’ the dream, man.”

“Okay, he’s a
stud.  Now can I tell you what happened yesterday?”  In spite of his words, the
tone used by Great Voice Guy made it obvious he knew Fry relatively well, and
was a calm, patient person who was very warm and wonderful, with a great
respect for women, children, and animals.  The fact that he had an incredibly
sexy voice had
not
influenced my opinion at all.

“Sure, sorry man,”
Fry apologized.  “I got sidetracked imagining my future love life – it’s got to
be better than the here and now.  Go.  I’m with you now.”

“So he came home
all upset,” Great Voice Guy began.  “Well, you saw him the other day when he
was talking about how he met with his accountant Andy Griffith in Mayberry. 
Yesterday afternoon was worse.  I don’t know if he mentioned it to you last
night, but you should have seen him at lunch.  He came in so upset I could
barely understand him.  I gave him some coffee – decaf – which seemed to help
him calm down enough to tell me what happened.  This time it was the
Cartwrights from Bonanza at a lady friend’s house.  I asked him where he’d
been, and what was this lady friend’s name?  He said he went over to Monday’s
house, because it was Monday.  His special ladies each have their own
designated day of the week to feed him whatever they baked and coffee.  He went
to her house at the usual time and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered.  He
thought something must have come up, or she forgot to tell him she wouldn’t be
home, so no big deal and he started to leave.  Then he said he decided to check
her kitchen door in the back, just to make sure she didn’t have the TV turned
up and didn’t hear the doorbell.  When he got to the patio, he saw her through
the kitchen window sitting at the table with the Bonanza guys.  He said Hoss
was eating the cake she supposedly baked for Uncle Barney.  Once he was calm
and going into more detail, he explained that he saw only two of the Bonanza brothers,
Hoss and Little Joe, because the other Bonanza guys weren’t there.  He knew she
didn’t answer the door because they were having his coffee and his cake at his
usual time, so he was upset.  He said he didn’t even knock on the back door –
he just turned around and left. 

“He’s getting more
stressed about any deviation from his routine as he has more periods of
confusion,” Great Voice Guy continued.  “I’m thinking Ms. Monday just forgot,
so it shouldn’t have been a big deal.  His reaction has me worried about
letting him continue to go out on his own.  I mean, he doesn’t drive, and
everyone in the neighborhood knows him, so going down the street and the few
blocks over that he walks has been working.  I don’t want him to feel he’s
losing even more of his independence, but I have to think of his safety.”