Something shady, p.15
Something Shady, page 15
part #2 of Stoner McTavish Mystery Series
“Be my guest,” Stoner muttered. She slipped back into the right-hand lane. The truck promptly slowed to forty-five. “Now what’s the point of that? Isn’t life hard enough?”
“I’m not ashamed of us or anything,” Gwen went on. “Please don’t think that.”
“I don’t.”
“I’d like Aunt Hermione and Marylou to know.”
“Oh, God, Marylou. She’ll pump me for details. I don’t think I can bear it.”
“Come on,” Gwen said, “you know you love it.”
Stoner sighed. “Yeah, I love it.”
She wanted to pull the car to the side of the road and take Gwen in her arms and hold her until there was no more holding left in her. She wanted to take her home and put her to bed and crawl in beside her. She wanted to...
“I’d better drop you off at your place,” she said. “I’ll get the car to you tomorrow if it hasn’t been towed.”
“Stoner…”
“Or I could leave it with you and take the T.”
“Stoner…”
“Unless they’re on strike again.”
“Stoner, stop the car.”
She hit the brake and dove for the break-down lane, nearly causing a ten-car pile-up. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No.” Gwen put her arms around Stoner’s neck and kissed her.
Three carloads of homophobes sped by, horns blaring.
“I want you to know,” Gwen said, “how proud I am to be your lover.”
For the first time that day, Stoner looked at her. Really looked at her, past the bruises and swelling to her deep brown eyes and perfect nose and fawn hair sprinkled with gray.
This woman wants me. She wants me, and there are thousands of days ahead for holding. “I love you,” she said, as angels sang.
“I love you, too,” Gwen murmured. “I’m sorry the weekend had to end like this.”
Stoner ran her fingers through Gwen’s hair. “You should have been able to handle those guys. What happened to your karate training?”
“They caught me off guard.” She hesitated. “Would you mind... I mean, would it be all right if I stay with you tonight?”
“All right?”
“I know it’s silly. I just want to be with you. I can call Grandmother from your place. I really can’t go to work like this, so it’s not as if I’d be up at the crack of dawn making noise or anything...”
“You might be more comfortable at home,” Stoner said in a valiant but not- very-sincere effort to be practical.
“I’m going to be miserable, anyway. I’d rather be miserable with you than without you. May I?”
“Of course.”
“And can we plan to go to Wyoming this summer?”
“Sure.”
“It won’t bring back unhappy memories, will it?”
“For a woman with a Master’s degree,” Stoner said softly, “you ask a lot of dumb questions.”
***
“Well,” said Aunt Hermione over breakfast, “I see your bed’s been slept in.”
Stoner fumbled with the jelly jar. “I should have told you, but you were out when we came in.”
“Grace had a little party for the coven. It was lovely.”Athene
“That’s nice,” Stoner said.
“Grace thinks I’ll be ready for initiation by Lammas, but I don’t know. I have such a hard time keeping the herbs straight.”
“To say nothing of reversals.” She buttered her toast. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Perhaps you could make me an Athene. You’re so much more mechanically minded than I am.”
“I would,” Stoner said, “if I knew what it was. Aunt Hermione,” she went on quickly before her aunt could start on an explanation that could last for hours, “Gwen and I are lovers.”
“Oh,” Aunt Hermione said, clasping her hands and nearly upsetting the orange juice, “you have no idea how relieved I am. I don’t think I could have borne another week of foreplay.”
“Foreplay! Aunt Hermione!”
“Months of moping around the house, talking yourself in and out of moods. Gwen on-again, off-again. If that isn’t foreplay, I don’t know foreplay.”
“Aunt Hermione,” Stoner said patiently, “I don’t think you understand the subtleties.”
“Oh, my dear, I’ve never understood subtlety. Not in the least.”
“She wasn’t ready.”
“Who’s ever ready? Whole industries are built on not ready. You weren’t ready, either.”
“Yes, I was.”
“You were not. I know you, Stoner. If you were ready, you’d have thrown yourself at her willy-nilly, and the Devil take the Hindmost, whatever that means.”
“Maybe.” She poked through the breadbox and found a stale brownie. It tasted a little like coffee grounds.
“Tell me, dear, what was the situation in Maine?”
“Not clear, but something’s definitely up.”
“I don’t suppose,” her aunt said, “you met any interesting cats.”
“Sorry, no. Gwen tripped over one, but I didn’t meet it.”
“Well, never mind. When it’s time for us to have a cat, we’ll have a cat.”
“Aunt Hermione, about Shady Acres…”
“Isn’t that a perfectly ridiculous name? Shady Acres. It sounds like that terrible old sit-com with Eddie Albert and Zsa Zsa Gabor.”
“I may have to do something... I don’t want you to worry, but it could be...”
Aunt Hermione waved her fork. “Whatever you decide to do, Stoner, I’m sure will be quite sensible.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Should I do a reading for you?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Her aunt took a small Week-at-a-glance appointment book from the pocket of her smock. ‘‘I’ll put you in tomorrow evening, between the blue-eyed Taurus and the Capricorn from Brockton.” She frowned. “What am I thinking of? A Taurus and two Capricorns back-to-back? I’ll be utterly drained, all that attention to detail.”
“Could we make it tonight?”
“Of course. Gwen can help. It’s so much easier to meditate with a Pisces present.”
“Aunt Hermione, am I a drain?”
“Only at times, dear. Capricorns do have their uses.”
Stoner smiled. “I’ll bet you can’t think of any at the moment.”
“Well,” her aunt said, “they’re good around the house.”
Gwen appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas and wearing Stoner’s bathrobe. “Who’s good around the house?”
“Capricorns,” Stoner said.
“I don’t know about the rest of the house,” Gwen said, “but they’re good around the bedroom. Coffee.” She scuffed to the stove.
Stoner turned her face to the wall.
“Gwen, dear,” said Aunt Hermione, “I’d offer congratulations, but Stoner would probably kill me. She’s very complex this morning.”
“She wasn’t complex last night,” Gwen said. She fingered the brownie. “What’s that?”
“A brownie,” Stoner muttered.
“Looks like a dead sponge.” She took her coffee to the table.
Stoner dropped the brownie into the trash.
“I think we should have a ceremony of commitment,” Aunt Hermione said. “I’ll summon the coven. We have a telephone tree, you know.”
“We are not,” Stoner said firmly, “ready to involve the coven.”
“Not until I’ve had coffee,” Gwen said.
Aunt Hermione perused her appointment book. “Perhaps on the next Esbat.”
“That sounds like a good time,” Stoner said, having not the faintest idea what an Esbat was.
“It could be a lovely celebration. Stoner, dear, would you hand me the cole...” She noticed Gwen’s bruised eye. “My, Stoner, I never knew you were like that.”
“I’m not ‘like that’! She was beaten up by two men.”
“Well, thank goodness. I try to be broad-minded, but I must admit I can’t quite warm up to M and S.”
Stoner slammed the bowl of coleslaw down on the table. “S and M.”
“This is good coffee,“ Gwen said.
“Thank you, dear,” Aunt Hermione said. “Nescafe instant run through the Melitta. Stoner wants us to boycott Nestle products, but they own half the food industry. One would have to give up eating. There’s always Beatrice, of course, but they’re probably just as bad, it just hasn’t come to light yet. Tell me, how does it feel to be counter-culture?”
Stoner banged her head against the wall.
Aunt Hermione clucked. “Now that you’re part of the family, Gwen, I hope you can break her of that dreadful habit. She’s going to do serious damage someday. To herself, or to the foundation.”
“After I have my coffee,” Gwen said.
“I have to go to work now,” Stoner said, trying to muster a little dignity.
“Run along,” her aunt said. “Gwen and I have a lot to discuss.”
Gwen blinked. “We do?”
“Your grandmother.” She sighed plaintively. “I love Eleanor dearly, I pray for her nightly, but sometimes she’s so, so…”
“Straight,” Gwen said.
“Square,” said Aunt Hermione. “But they’re the same thing, aren’t they? Interesting how the language changes. I wonder what it means.” She ruminated over her coleslaw. “Yes, we definitely have to do something about Eleanor.”
“I’d welcome any suggestions,” Gwen said.
Stoner cleared her throat. “I’m going to work now.”
“Friday night,”Aunt Hermione said to Gwen,“I invited her to a very nice place down on Washington Street to see the male strippers. And she absolutely refused to go along.”
“Aunt Hermione,” Stoner said, “that’s the Combat Zone.”
“It’s never been very combative when I’ve been there. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care about male strippers, when you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all...”
“Good-bye, everyone,” Stoner said loudly, “I’m off to work.”
“...but you’d think she’d try it just once. My goodness, everyone, goes to male strippers. It’s quite respectable.”
“See you tonight.”
“It isn’t as if I’d suggested lady mud wrestlers.” She looked up. “Did you say something, Stoner?”
“I’m leaving.”
Aunt Hermione kissed her cheek, “Come in quietly when you get home, dear. I have a late Leo, and you know how they are.”
“Don’t wear Gwen out, okay? She doesn’t feel too well.”
“I’ll put her back in bed,” Aunt Hermione said, “and give her a nice healing tea.”
“Don’t drink anything,” Stoner said to Gwen, “unless she looks it up first.”
Gwen got to her feet shakily. “I should go home. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“For God’s sake, Gwen.” She turned to her aunt. “Make her listen to reason, will you?”
“Listen to reason, Gwen,” Aunt Hermione said, attacking the coleslaw.
At the door Stoner took Gwen in her arms. She felt small and fragile. Stoner kissed her gently. “Be here when I get home, please? Don’t make me think it was all a dream.”
Gwen nodded. “Have a nice day at the office, dear.”
***
For once, the weather wasn’t behaving like a bleacher bum at Fenway park, drunk on Ego and Attracting Attention to Itself. Enough sunlight to cast shadows, too little to give them definition. No promise of spring in the air, no threat of regression to winter. Nothing hovering in the wings. An archetypical March nothing day. The kind of weather nobody talked about. Over at Channel 5, the meteorologist must be going nuts thinking up ways to be cute without the aid of “muggies” or “thunder-boomers” or “just ducky’s.”
A dog of dubious parentage trotted by on important business. It struck her that, in addition to its other peculiarities, Castleton had no visible dogs. Any town without wandering mongrels was lacking an essential human dimension. Maybe the secret of Shady Acres was Body Snatchers, growing pods in the conservatory and shipping them out at the new moon.
A few doors from the travel agency, she paused to catch her breath and steel herself. She lingered over a display of half-price leftover St. Patrick’s Day cards, delaying the inevitable. It was going to be a raucous day.
Come on, just because you’re pleased enough to burst is no reason to go shy.
But I don’t know what to do with good news.
Other people jump up and down and squeal.
She pictured herself bounding up to Marylou with glad cries of, “We did it! We’re lovers!” The two of them leaping hand-in-hand among the travel posters.
It made her want to crawl under the nearest car.
Which happened to be a beat-up Volkswagen with limp springs.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
“Well,” said Marylou, “how was Maine?”
“Fine.” Not looking at her, Stoner slipped into the closet.
Marylou followed and blocked the door. “Fine? What does that mean, fine?”
“Just... fine.”
“Anything new?”
She pulled off her coat and tossed it on a hook. “We found Claire.”
“Wonderful!”
“Well, not so wonderful, really.” She brushed her hands through her hair.
“We think she’s being held prisoner.”
“Really?”
“Something’s going on up there.”
“Something’s going on everywhere.”
“We met this woman, Delia? She runs a restaurant...”
“What kind of restaurant?”
“It’s called The Clam Shack.”
Marylou winced.
“She thinks they killed her husband.”
“Who?”
“The Shady Acres people.”
“Why?”
“Because he found out something.”
“What?”
“We don’t know.”
“We,” Marylou said tonelessly.
“Gwen and I.”
“I figured Gwen and you. Gwen and you being the only ‘we’ in the immediate vicinity. Why didn’t you call me last night?”
“It was late. I was tired. I wanted to wait until I saw you to fill you in.” She moved toward the door. “Want to let me out of here?”
“Not until you tell me what you’re feeling guilty about.”
“I don’t feel guilty about anything,” Stoner said, feeling guilty.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Stoner forced herself to look. “Where in the world did you get that blouse?”
“My sister sent it from Hawaii. Stoner…”
“Are those hibiscus?”
“Probably.”
“Or is it hibisci?”
“How should I know?” Marylou snapped. “What’s the matter with you?”
Stoner shuffled her feet and wondered what to do with her hands. “Uh... Gwen and I are... uh... lovers.” She waited for the Roman candles to go off.
“Well,” Marylou said. She stretched to reach the overhead shelf and took down a bag of cookies. “Want a Swirly-Q?”
“We’re lovers,” Stoner repeated. “Not as in ‘we made love,’ as in ‘lovers’.”
“I guessed as much, what with all the ‘we’-ing.” She offered her the bag. “Sure you don‘t want one? They’re not as good as they were when they first came out.”
Bewildered, Stoner shook her head.
“But then” Marylou muttered, “who is?”
“Marylou...”
“Less fudge. Tougher. Do they think we don’t notice?”
“Marylou, aren’t you glad?”
“Why should I be glad?” She strode to her desk. “I like fudge.”
Stoner trailed after her. “About Gwen and…”
“I said congratulations, didn’t it?” Marylou began rooting in her bottom drawer.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, congratulations.” She slammed the drawer. “I’m delighted.”
“You don’t sound it.”
Marylou glanced up. “I have a lot on my mind, love.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The building next door’s going condo. I think we’re next.” She opened another drawer.
“If we’re going condo, the landlord would have given us notice.” Stoner sat on the desk. “We’ll find another place.”
“Will we?” She slammed that drawer. “Maybe it’s time for a change, anyway. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life cooped up in a marginally successful travel agency with me.”
“I like being cooped up in a marginally successful travel agency with you.”
“Booking moonlight cocktail cruises to Revere.”
“There’s nobody else in the world I want to be cooped up in a marginally successful travel agency with.”
“Senior citizen tours to Plimouth Plantation.”
“Marylou…”
“Whale watches.”
“Marylou.”
“What?”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me. I adore whale watches. Flukes turn me on.”
“You’ve never been on a whale watch.”
Marylou played the first bar of ‘Tara’s Theme’ on her touch tone phone.
“I thought you’d be happy. About Gwen and…”
“It’s hardly a news flash, Pet. You’ve been in a state of arousal for seven months.”
Hurt, Stoner retreated to her own desk. “I take it you’re neither surprised nor pleased.”
“Of course I’m pleased,” Marylou said. “Surprised, I’m not. For Heaven’s sake, Stoner, you sat on the Swirly-Q’s.”
She slammed her hand down on the desktop. “Damn it, I don’t need this!”
Marylou started, stared, and appeared to change channels. She got to her feet and came over to her. “I’m sorry, Pet. Condo conversion drives me wild. I have visions of the end of Kesselbaum and McTavish.”
Stoner almost believed her.
“You know I’m glad about the two of you. What kind of a friend would I be if I weren’t glad?”
“I’d understand if you were worried. Sometimes it changes things.”
