Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (28 page)

“Who are they?” Artie asked.

“Us. We’re House of Cards.”

“We’re a company?” Mindy spit out her coffee.

“We are now. We just have to print up business cards and bring them with us.”

“Cool!” Mindy laughed. “What do we do?”

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“What do you think we do? We develop clever greeting cards.”

“Are we good?”

“Are you kidding? We’ve got me as the art director. We’re unbelievable!”

“Do you have clients?” Artie asked.

“One . . . Downtown Greetings.”

“Wait . . . who gets to be the president?” Mindy poked Beth’s shoulder.

“That would be me also,” she said.

“No, no. I am much more qualified. I have real presidential experience.”

“Since when?”

“I was president of my Hadassah chapter for two years and I was awesome. But seriously, what’s the real story here?”

“I just told you. Anna Jane thinks we’re great, she needs a quick something or other to impress the board after they find out the contest was canceled, and it’s Chicago here we come. And don’t even think of not going because I need the job!”

“No one gets through E-ZPass without payin’ the toll.” Artie caught Mindy’s eye.

“And you would know,” she glared. Beth was suffering enough without him poking fun. If only there was a cure for Dumb Husband disease. “Would you please go up and help Stacie with her homework? Then go get Aaron.”

“Homework, yes, Aaron, not yet. I just spoke to Nadine and she said the kids are having a great time and not to come until eleven. Apparently it turned into a victory party.”

“Jonathan just found out he got into Indiana’s music school,”

Mindy told Beth, “and he’s out of his mind excited.”

“That’s great. I wish my luck would start to change.”

“Me, too.” Artie squeezed the soda can in his bare hand. “The bad news continues. . . .”

“Now what?” Mindy swallowed.

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“Remember before when you said Noah catches tax evaders?

Well that could be us.”

“Oh, no! Lenny finally woke up and realized we hadn’t filed since Clinton was president?”

“Leave him alone. You think it’s easy doing people’s taxes with an abacus? No, he just did our quarterly estimates and we don’t have the money to pay them. Oh, and then we just got a call from some detective in Portland investigating a vandalism case at one of the schools.”

“Oh my God.” Mindy held her breath.

“Yeah. There’s a warrant out for Aaron’s arrest.”

But what did you get when you mixed Jewish geography with six degrees of separation? The name of an attorney in Portland who happened to be related to a cousin of Nadine’s uncle’s second wife. And that wasn’t even the coincidence. The attorney, Steven Hoffman, knew and remembered Davida Findley, as she had once donated a dozen of her handmade quilts for an auction for his pet charity.

After hearing Aaron’s tale, including the latest twist that he was being charged with vandalizing school property, Steven offered to take the case on a pro bono basis in return for his late mother’s generosity. Only trouble was, he was going to need Aaron back in Portland within forty-eight hours to post bail and to await a hearing with a family court judge.

“No problem,” Artie told him. “I was hoping to get away for a few days.”

“Plus, we love spending money we don’t have.” Mindy poured a glass of wine.

When confronted with the accusation, Aaron swore he had not vandalized any schools in years and that the Portland Police had picked him up in error for questioning once before. But while Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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Mindy and Artie desperately wanted to believe him, with a prior arrest record and now a new warrant, he had no choice. He had to answer the charges.

But funny how bad did sometimes turn to good, for being back in Portland allowed Aaron to collect more of his possessions and to see Rainbow. Meanwhile, Artie was finally able to get his hands on Aaron’s official school transcript as well as Davida’s death certificate, the biggest saving grace of all.

On a hunch, Stan had called the New York State Insurance Department and discovered that the company Rhoda bought the policy from had changed hands several times, but was still paying out claims. Furthermore, Artie was correct in guessing that the policy could still be in force if the premiums had been paid from an investment account and then by its dividends. With proof of the insured’s death, he as beneficiary could file a claim and receive the settlement.

Still, he was careful not to do the happy dance when he heard the news, lest Aaron go crazy again for thinking his father was rejoicing that his mother died. But proof of her death would not be the only evidence they would supply that would change their luck.

The crime committed against Lewis Elementary occurred on a night that Aaron was cruising the Atlantic Ocean, and dated photos downloaded by Stan was the evidence they needed to prove he was not the defendant picked up on the surveillance cameras.

“Aaron’s not going to jail?” Ricky tugged at Mindy when Artie shared the news. “No sweetie pie. He was telling the truth . . .

he’s a really good boy. Just like you.”

“Now can we take him to Disney?”

“Not yet, but definitely the circus. It’s coming up real soon.”

“Aaron doesn’t like the circus.”

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“He doesn’t? How come?”

“’Cause the clowns are scary and they do bad things to kids.

They made him pull down his pants.”

“Oh my God! He said that? He said the clowns made him pull down his pants?”

“Yeah . . . but it’s okay to go to the circus here ’cause that was only the clowns where he lived.”

“Do you swear you’re telling the truth, Ricky, because that’s a very bad lie to tell?”

“I’m not lying Mommy. Aaron hates the circus ’cause-a the bad clowns. I don’t wanna go no more either.”

Twenty-two

Why was it that when you were in the middle of a storm that was blowing the roof off your house, and you were down on your knees praying for survival, the phone rang and it was someone trying to sell you vinyl siding?

There Mindy was, trying to book a return flight for her mother in Florida that would land in time for her and Beth to then catch a f light to Chicago, when the phone rang and Mindy heard Dana’s whiny, aren’t-I-special voice. “Hello, Mindy. How are the children?”

Not that Dana cared. The reason she’d called was to say that she and Ira had been discussing it and they were uncomfortable with the idea of Mindy and Artie making Passover because, well, their house was so small, and it would be such a tight squeeze to fit everyone into the dining room and besides, everyone knew Rhoda was a much better cook, not to mention she’d just spoken to Rhoda and things were more or less back to normal with Stan, at least they weren’t threatening to split up anymore, and also, the contractor doing their kitchen floors was running behind and wouldn’t be getting started until after the holiday so they 254

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could still make the first night as long as Mindy and Artie were okay with it.

Mindy took one of those deep-cleansing breaths Dana was always raving about and said, “You know what I think? I think that you should take your organic horseradish and your gluten-free matzoh and shove it up your ass because we are making Passover here just like we planned. My family has been looking forward to starting some new traditions, and so what if our dining room would be a tight squeeze? If you guys don’t come, we’ll have plenty of room and we won’t have to worry that we only have service for twelve or that your bratty kids will destroy the place like they did last time they were here.”

“Oh my God. It was just a suggestion!” Dana sniffed. “I wish you’d try gingerroot and passionf lower. They really take the edge off.”

“So does a bottle of red!”

“Whatever . . . I didn’t know it meant so much to you to make Passover.”

“Actually it doesn’t. Way too much work, not to mention a huge expense. It’s just that I don’t understand why you always have to act like you’re royalty and we’re here to serve you. I mean you basically just told me we don’t deserve to make a holiday because we don’t live in a McMansion, but you know what? Forget it. I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I’ll tell Rhoda we love the tradition of having it at their house and that’s the end of it. I have to go now.”

“Wait, Mindy,” she blurted. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.

I wasn’t thinking. . . . The truth is it’s not even why I called.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I was wondering, did Artie mention anything about talking to Ira?”

“Ira? Not really. Why?”

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“Just curious. I thought maybe he happened to mentioned something to him about us.”

“No, nothing. What’s going on? Are you crying?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “Forget I said anything. I’m sure once Ira comes back to his senses he’ll realize I’m right.”

“About what?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You and Artie are so good together.

I’m sure he doesn’t constantly belittle you or take off for days at a time. Ira can be being very difficult. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Whoa! Not you guys, too. Did someone spike the Kool-Aid?
“I’m really sorry, Dana. I had no idea, and if Ira did say something to Artie, he didn’t tell me. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe you could talk to him.

Tell him that he’d better get his act together because you found out I was very unhappy and that is not a good thing.”

“Me tell him? No, no. I’m out of that business. He’s your husband—”

“Well that’s what Stan suggested. He said you were able to talk sense into Rhoda, so maybe you could do the same with Ira.”

“Oh my God, you’ve discussed this with Stan?”

“I discuss everything with him. He’s an excellent listener . . .

very understanding.”

“Stan, our father-in-law Stan?”

“Yes. I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have him to lean on.”

“Oh me too. He’s so supportive.”
Holy crap, Batman! I’m the last
sane person on earth. Time to board the mother ship
.

Mindy was in a bind. She and Beth were en route to the airport, but it was not the victory lap she’d envisioned. If she closed her eyes, she either thought of Dana pouring her heart out to Stan, or Aaron’s painful secret about circus clowns. If she opened them, 256

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she was sitting shotgun in a car driven by a woman who had confused the Southern State Parkway with the Autobahn.

Either way she felt nauseous, but with this being a factory-clean car, and with them already running late because Mindy forgot their box of business cards, she would never hear the end of it if she chose this time and place to puke.

But as Beth took hairpin turns, Mindy chose
A
for “Aaron.”

Oh, the injustice that his early life had been so tainted and that his childhood fears were still chasing him like hooligan waves.

Weren’t they supposed to weaken over time, not follow him to shore with an undertow of dread?

And of all things in which to be afraid. A clown’s entire reason for being was to bring people joy and laughter, not embed fear like a microchip planted under the skin. But if it was true that Aaron had been molested by some sicko in a clown costume, it would explain why he had behaved so badly at that Mrs. Cassidy’s office the day they registered him for school.

The clown motif in her office wasn’t a decor choice, but an obsession, with every inch of space designated for a photo, figurine, or collectible. Clearly her intent was good. Who wouldn’t enjoy being surrounded by smiling faces, other than perhaps a young man haunted by images of unspeakable acts, and for whom life was no longer a laughing matter?

It was so sad. Just when they thought they knew all there was to know about the boy’s jigsaw life, they were still uncovering more pieces of the puzzle.

“Why are you still crying?” Beth asked Mindy as they waited at the gate area. “My driving wasn’t that bad.”

“Really? Remind me to grab some of the airsick bags from the plane and stick them in your glove compartment.” She blew into a tissue. “You are aware that the posted speed limits are not just suggestions?”

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“I wouldn’t have had to rush if we didn’t have to go back for the business cards.”

“We wouldn’t have had to go back if you’d have let me concentrate on my packing, but no, you had to call six times, should I bring the Donna Karan sweater or the Ann Taylor blazer, the Joan and David pumps or the Coach sandals? What do I know about fashion?”

“Good point. Half your wardrobe says the Mets. That would make me cry, too . . . and please tell me you brought something nice to wear to our meeting.”

“Sadly, my choices were limited,” she sniffed. “It was either my red checked skirt that doubles as a tablecloth or my black funeral suit, which is so tight, the only way I can zip the skirt is if I wear the pantyhose that makes your voice go up an octave.”

“Great. So which was it? I hope not the tablecloth.”

“No, I went back into the archives and found an old skirt that was kind of long and f lowing and lets me breathe normally in case the supply of oxygen is cut off.”

“Then why are you crying? You’re getting insurance money you weren’t expecting, Artie got his son back, and now you have this once in a lifetime opportunity to work with me.”

“I know, but it seems like every time we get some good news, there’s more bad news right behind it.”

“Hey. I’m the one who should be crying. My husband left me, my daughters hate me, and my parents want to move in with me because they don’t think I can handle everything by myself. . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Mindy sighed. “I’m in shock. We’ve been through so much recently and the insanity just doesn’t end. Things keep happening that boggle the mind.”

“Yeah, but let’s face it. We bring most of this on ourselves.”