Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes (6 page)

G
ood Lord, Debbie Sue, that's the Empire State Building.” Edwina pressed her face close to the cab's side window. “It looks just like it did in
Sleepless in Seattle
. Remember the scene where Meg Ryan met Tom Hanks at the top?”

“I didn't see it,” Debbie Sue said, “but I saw King Kong hang off the side and fight off airplanes.”

“And what about that old one where Cary Grant waited for this woman and she got run over…. Hey, I know. Let's look for celebrities. I've heard they're butt-high to a giraffe in New York. Oh, my God, what if we spot somebody famous?”

Debbie Sue wasn't bowled over by spotting celebrities. She had seen her share. Even knew a few. Not movie stars,
but you couldn't be a ProRodeo champion and not see and know other ProRodeo-ers or country-western singers and the like. Lord, during the years when she wasn't married to Buddy, she'd had a fling with a three-time world champion bullrider. For that matter, at one time, she had been a minor celebrity herself.

“Wow,” Edwina said, “just look at all the dogs. Did you ever think there would be so many dogs?”

Edwina was acting like a kid in a candy store, but she was right about the dogs. There were dogs on leashes everywhere. All sizes, all breeds. They appeared to be unaffected by the surrounding crowds and traffic. Definitely not something one would see in downtown Dallas or Houston.

Debbie Sue spotted signs pointing to Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue. “Look! I've heard those street names my entire life. I feel like I'm in an episode of
CSI: New York
.”

A red light halted the cab's progress. Debbie Sue could see the cab driver cut his eyes to the rearview mirror. So? Maybe she and Edwina were a little carried away, but surely he had seen excited tourists before.

“So do I.” Edwina tugged on Debbie Sue's sleeve. “Look out my window. There's a body under that sheet, where those three cops are standing.”

“Oh, my God, Ed. Is that a real body?”

“I can't think of a reason for it to be a fake one.”

“Maybe they're filming for a TV show.” Debbie Sue leaned forward and spoke to the cabbie. “Hey, do you think that's a real body on the ground? Could they be filming a movie?”

“I no see,” the driver said, without turning his head.

“Right there.” Debbie Sue pointed to the right. “Look out your right window. It's on the ground, twenty feet away.”

“I no see,” the driver repeated, staring straight ahead and honking his horn as the light changed.

Debbie Sue leaned back against her seat. “Well, if that doesn't beat all,” she whispered. “Why do you suppose he wouldn't even look?”

“Maybe he didn't understand you. Or maybe he doesn't want to get involved.”

“Hell, I didn't ask him to
identify
it. I just asked him to look in that direction.”

Edwina shook her head. “It's different here, Debbie Sue. It's just different.”

“You're telling me. A body on the ground back home, covered up by a sheet? Everyone in the county would be on the phone, checking up on who's missing or dead. And if this many people drove around in Dallas, all honking at each other, somebody would get his ass kicked.”

In less than fifteen minutes, the driver delivered them to the front entrance of their hotel, heaved their suitcases onto the sidewalk and sped away. Edwina hooked her carry-on's long leather strap over her shoulder and hoisted another bag to her hip. She bent and picked up two additional bags, one in each hand.

But Debbie Sue wasn't ready to stop looking at her surroundings. “Wait a minute, Ed.”

“What's wrong? This is the right hotel, isn't it?”

“Yeah, yeah, this is where we're supposed to be.”

Edwina started forward. “Well, I think it's a pretty fair bet nobody's coming out here to get us. Let's go in. I'm carrying over a hundred pounds of crap.”

She limped another two steps under her load, then stopped and set her bags and suitcases on the sidewalk. “Okay, what's up? What's going on? You look like a six-year-old that just heard Christmas was canceled.”

“I don't know, Ed. It's just that all of a sudden I don't feel like we belong here.”

“You mean in New York City? Hon, I'm not sure if anyone
belongs
here, but the fact is, this is where we are.”

“I mean at this conference. Good Lord, Ed, just look around us. What in the hell can we tell people who live here about anything, much less about conducting a criminal investigation? They see more shit walking down the street than we run up against in Salt Lick in a lifetime.”

“Oh, no, you don't. You're the one that talked me into coming. You don't get to have second thoughts. Besides, we're not here to reinvent the wheel, Debbie Sue. They have their way of doing things and we have ours. All we're going to do is tell them what works for the Equalizers. It's a chance to share methods, that's all. Just a chance to share methods.”

Debbie Sue dredged up a smile. “You're right. We can all learn something from each other.”

“That's my girl.” Edwina repositioned her bags with a series of grunts.

“You're right. I'll be fine.” Debbie Sue fell in step with her friend and they entered the hotel lobby.

A bellhop met Edwina with a cart and relieved her of her burden. “Debbie Sue, give him your stuff.”

But Debbie Sue was stopped in her tracks, staring at a display board of activities in the hotel. The display spelled out N
ATIONAL
A
SSOCIATION OF
P
RIVATE
I
NVESTIGATORS
in bold letters, and listed the speakers in smaller type. Debbie Sue's jaw dropped. “I can't believe this.”

“What?” Edwina said from behind her.

“Look at this.” Debbie Sue stared at the notice, which read, “Investigating for Dummies, presented by the Domestic Equalizers of Dallas, Texas.”

Edwina came to her side, frowning at the display board. “We're not from Dallas.”

“I can't believe this,” Debbie Sue said again, tears springing to her eyes. “I've never been so embarrassed.”

“A dummy's a step down from a clown, right?”

“Shut up, Ed. It's bad enough
they're
making fun of us. You don't have to do it, too.” The hot flames of anger had finally reached Debbie Sue's cheeks and tongue. She sliced a hand through the air. “Fuck 'em. Get your shit off that cart, Ed. We're leaving. They can find somebody else to make fun of.”

“Now, Debbie Sue, don't get your titties in a twist. We've already taken these people's airplane tickets and I sure as hell don't want to have to pay for this hotel myself. This joint looks like it costs a little more than Motel Six.”

Debbie Sue's disillusionment stuck like a huge burr in her
throat. She had been so wrong to think the Domestic Equalizers had gained some stature in the world of professional private investigators. She should have known they wouldn't expect to learn something from country bumpkins. Why, whoever made the display didn't even show the town she and Edwina came from. All they wanted the Domestic Equalizers for was comic relief. Tears brimmed her eyelids and one trailed down her cheek.

Edwina's long arm looped around her shoulder and she began to pat. “Now, now, Debbie Sue, c'mon. We're here, so let's make the most of it. We'll get even. We'll invite 'em all down to Texas and take 'em to a working ranch or a rodeo. Then
we'll
make fun of
them
. C'mon, now.”

Debbie Sue shook her head. “I don't think I can, Ed. I don't think I can face a roomful of people, knowing—”

“What are you talking about? You rode a damn horse around three barrels in
coliseums
full of people. And for a few years you did it better than anybody else. Listen, girlfriend, I'll bet, in this whole convention, we don't run across another human being that's done that. Or
can
do it.”

“But that was different, Ed. Those were my people and they weren't making fun of me.”

“You know what? If these folks want clowns, the Domestic Equalizers will give 'em a circus. Now, let's go find the bar.”

Edwina's tone had an ominous ring to it. Somehow, Debbie Sue didn't feel reassured.

 

So this is New York City
, Celina thought. The Greyhound inched its way through a snarl of traffic like she had never
seen, not even in Austin. Horns honked. Yellow cabs changed lanes at random. Bike riders took risks that made her want to hide her eyes. Pedestrians jaywalked with abandon. The whole scene was mesmerizing and exciting.

On the sidewalks, throngs of people, mostly wearing athletic shoes, scurried along and crossed intersections. She had expected to see a fashion show. High heels and super models. Beautiful people strolling the streets of the most exciting city in the world. But the crowd she could see from her bus window looked no different from her. Except that they obviously knew where they were going.

At last the bus came to a stop. Passengers got to their feet and started gathering belongings. A wave of panic hit Celina.

Dear God, after forty-two hours and five minutes, she was leaving her cocoon of security. Like a baby bird, she was being pushed from the nest into the noisy, busy, hurrying world. Was she ready? Hardly.

Outside the bus, time passed at a snail's pace while she waited for her one large suitcase to be unloaded. Once it was in front of her, she didn't quite know what to do. She could barely lift it and she certainly was unable to carry it. Dewey had carried it to the bus stop in front of the drugstore in Dime Box. She sighed. Well, she could drag it. What choice did she have?

She was relieved to see a taxi stand at the entrance to the terminal, but she wasn't happy to see such a long line of people waiting. Cabs were also lined up in a long queue, as each one picked up passengers. Apparently, they went by
strict rules, because she saw a sign saying that no more than four fares could ride in a cab.

A party of five stood in line ahead of her, talking nervously. A swarthy cab driver was speaking to them in broken English and pointing to the sign. After several minutes of pleading and explaining that they were afraid of being separated and possibly losing each other, the driver relented and threw up his hands. He stalked to the driver's seat, muttering in a language Celina wouldn't attempt to guess.

Just as the five started to board the cab, a caftan-wearing driver of the cab behind it darted forward, waving his arms and yelling at the first cab driver in yet a different language. Celina cringed and stepped back, lest he trample her. The driver who had agreed to take the five passengers shouted back. All of the party of five, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, stared helplessly at the two men.

Shouts between the cab drivers turned into pushing and shoving. The two cabbies fell to the ground, rolling and slinging punches, the caftan wearer's robe a tangled mess. The five passengers moved furtively to yet another cab, where yet another driver quickly loaded their bags into his trunk, slid behind the wheel and sped away, barely giving them enough time to climb in.

When the two cab drivers engaged in fisticuffs on the ground paused and saw the cab speed away, each jumped to his feet, climbed into his respective cab and tore after the cab with the five fares.

“Wow,” Celina muttered under her breath.

As she stood there weighing her few options, another
brown-skinned man wearing a turban and a chest-length gray beard approached her. “You need ride?” he asked in broken English.

Celina hesitated. “I, uh, I'm not sure.”

“You in line, you need ride. Where you go?”

Before she could answer he heaved her suitcase into the trunk of his cab.

Left with little desirable choice, she hesitantly opened the back door. The driver had already scooted behind the steering wheel and motioned for her to get in. She drew a deep breath and crawled into the backseat, leaving one foot on the sidewalk.

“Where you go?” The driver asked as he scribbled something on a clipboard.

“How much to take me to Fifty-two Broadway?”

“That Y?”

Celina squinted, uncertain what he had asked her. “Uh, yes.”
I think so
. “How much?”

He set his clipboard aside. “Two fifty in the front, a buck and fifty for the mile. Fifteen bucks.” He held up ten fingers. “You got that? I do not have all day.”

Confused and still smarting from the theft of her money, Celina tried to do a quick mental calculation of jaunts between the YWCA and the conference hotel. At this rate and with her cushion gone, she would have to keep her trips to a minimum. “Do the subways run there? That fight was a little unsettling and—”

“Do not let those foreigners scare you.” He rolled his dark eyes. “Foreigners!” He made a spitting motion toward the
seat. “They ruin the city. You want ride or no? I try to make the living here. What are you, some ball and screw?”

Ball and screw?…Oh, screwball!
“Yes!…I mean no!…Yes, I have the money. Let's go.”

The bearded driver looked at her squint-eyed in the rearview mirror. “Put in foot. Close door.”

“Foot?”

He made a gesture with his hand.

In the challenge of trying to communicate with the driver, she had forgotten her right foot was still planted on the sidewalk. “Oh, foot. Yes.”

She jerked her leg into the cab. She barely had time to close the door before they raced away.

T
he cab's backseat was covered with a plastic protective barrier. Celina soon found that while it might keep the upholstery pristine, its slick surface made sitting in the moving vehicle and casually observing the city impossible.

She slid from one side of the seat to the other as the cab careened through the city streets, squeezed between cars, pushed traffic lights and dodged pedestrians. She secured herself in the middle of the seat with arms extended, palms out. She was still jostled, but not as much. At least now she had some control. At least she could remain upright.

Just when she thought she had mastered the ride, the cab lurched to a stop so abruptly she was pitched halfway into the front seat.

She gathered herself, stumbled out of the cab, straightened her clothing and checked her moving parts. The driver was already quickstepping to the trunk. A small man, he struggled to heave her suitcase out and onto the street, mumbling in whatever language he spoke. As she pressed eighteen dollars into his hand, he neither looked her in the face nor counted the money. In an instant he was back in the cab and on the phone. He pulled away from the curb, leaving her struggling with her heavy bag.

With a tight grip, she attempted to tug it by its strap off the street and onto the sidewalk. In mid-tug, the leather strap broke. She staggered backward, lost her balance and landed on her back on the sidewalk with the suitcase on top of her. So far, her view of New York City as a sidewalk pedestrian was straight up. Before she could move she heard males voices and laughter.

“Ten Eighty-four all units, Ten Eighty-four.”

“You sure that's not a Ten Fifty?”

Celina looked up into three grinning, extremely good-looking male faces. Further inspection revealed that one wore a huge coat and…
Oh, my goodness. Firefighters
.

She moved her eyes from side to side, then straight up, looking for smoke. She saw none, nor did she smell any.

One of the men leaned down and offered her his hand. “Can I help you up, miss? You hurt?”

He spoke with an accent Celina had heard most recently on TV during an episode of
The Sopranos
. She took his hand and was instantly lifted to a standing position.

She began to brush at her clothing. “Is there a fire? I don't see any smoke.”

“No, ma'am,” the man, who had an American flag embroidered above his shirt pocket, said. “Not here. But if there was, we'd know what to do about it.” They all laughed.

A few times in her life, a good-looking man had singled her out. She had found that unnerving enough, but being surrounded by three turned her brain mushy. She hooked a sheaf of hair behind her ear and reached for the strap on her suitcase. “Y'all don't have to worry. I'm just fine. I was trying to get my suitcase off the street when that driver just took off. He just about pulled me along with him. I don't know why he's in such a hurry.”

She sensed that the men weren't moving and looked around. All of them were staring at her. “Where
are
you from?” the one with the flag said. “Wait, don't tell me. I got it. You're a Georgia peach if I ever heard one.”

She laughed. “Georgia? I'm not from Georgia.” She couldn't believe it, but even she heard how her speech had taken on an exaggerated drawl. She sounded like Scarlett O'Hara.

A different man, his smile slow and seductive, picked up her suitcase as if it weighed nothing. “I know you're from the South. The South's got the prettiest women in the world.” He handed her the suitcase.

Awestruck and forgetting the weight of the bag, Celina took it from him. And immediately dropped it on his foot.

His eyes bugged and he grunted.

“Oh. Oh, my gosh!” She slapped her palms against her cheeks. “I'm so sorry. That suitcase is so heavy—”

“No problem,” he said, and smiled faintly as he lifted it off his foot.

Celina felt as if she were watching a bad play. If the actress playing her had dug her toes into the pavement and said, “Aw, shucks, I bet you say that to all the girls,” she wouldn't have even been surprised. “I'm from Texas,” she said, striving for composure. Only it came out, “I'm frum Taxes.”

The trio broke into laughter again. The one with the flag said, “Texas. I should have known. I went to Amarillo once to help my brothers fight some range fires. I think they call that the Panhandle. You know where that is?”

Celina brightened. It was good to be talking about home, hearing familiar names of locations.

“Oh, yes. Of course I do. You must come from a large family. How many brothers do you have in Amarillo?”

The men laughed again and she realized that their impression of her as a rube had become cemented. She felt the heat of a flush crawling up her neck.

“Don't be embarrassed,” the youngest-looking of the three said. “Brothers are what we call other firefighters. We're all brothers to each other.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Now that you mention it, I remember hearing that somewhere.”

“Just where in Texas do you live? If all the women look like you, I need to go there sometime.”

Though embarrassed at her lack of sophistication, Celina still thoroughly enjoyed the attention of these men. They
definitely weren't Sam. She gave them her best smile. “Dime Box.”

The men looked at each other, then laughed again. “Is that a town?” one of them asked.

She was still enjoying the moment when an ear-splitting alarm sounded. A huge panel door in the wall beside her opened and one of the men said, “That's it. Gotta go, guys.” And they were gone.

Celina stood there, eye-to-headlight with a huge fire truck. She hadn't realized she was in front of a fire station. At home, a fire station was a freestanding structure, easily recognized. Here, it was part of a wall. The full panel door was the only thing distinguishing it from the other buildings with storefront windows or doorways. She grabbed her suitcase and heaved and shoved it out of the fire truck's path.

She hadn't noticed it before, but now she saw the huge “no parking” zone painted in bright white across the front of the station. No wonder that cab driver had driven away so quickly. And no wonder those men were having such a good time flirting with her and making fun of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth in total embarrassment.

In lieu of a hole to fall into, she looked for a door and saw one right beside the fire station, with a sign affixed over it: N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY
YWCA, E
ST
. 1932.

“Well, duh,” she mumbled, and gripped her suitcase handle tightly.

Half an hour later, she was shown to her room, or “the closet,” as it would have been referred to back home. It had
a twin bed only and a highback chair pressed against the wall near the head of the bed, just to the right of the small window that looked out on a brick wall. She supposed the chair served as a nightstand as well. Celina scanned the walls for crosses or other religious symbols, for surely this was a nunnery.

Tossing her purse on the bed, she sank to the chair seat and looked out the window.
This isn't so bad
, she told herself. It's clean, it's safe. Practically an entire army of heroes was just next door. “It's only for a few days,” she mumbled.

Tomorrow the seminars would start and hopefully, her new life.

 

“First things first,” Debbie Sue said, taking Edwina by the arm and pulling her toward the registration desk. “I'm not letting you near a bar 'til we get checked in.”

Registration went without a hitch and soon they were standing in the middle of a luxurious hotel room on the sixth floor. The bellhop put their bags down and hurried over to a set of drapes that covered the entire wall.

“I think you ladies will enjoy this view,” he said, pulling the cord and revealing floor-to-ceiling windows and a priceless view of Times Square. “A few of the rooms on this floor have a balcony. You can't actually use it because the windows have these little bars that keep them from being opened, but still, isn't it to die for?”

“I don't know if I'd go that far,” Debbie Sue said, taking in the view, “but it's pretty cool, all right.”

Edwina slipped some money into the young man's hand.

“You ladies enjoy your stay in New York City,” he said on his way out the door. Before closing the door, he stopped. “What part of Texas are you from?”

“It's a tiny place you've never heard…” Debbie Sue stopped in mid-sentence. “Wait just a minute. How did you know we're from Texas?”

The young man laughed. “That's a good one. You ladies have fun.” With that, he closed the door.

Debbie Sue glanced at Edwina. “I suppose he thinks we have an accent.”

“You do, but I don't,” Edwina said between gum smacks.

“You're kidding, right? Because, Edwina Perkins-Martin, you sound like reruns of
Hee Haw
,
Green Acres
and
Dallas
, all rolled into one.”

“Maybe I do, but I'll tell you one thing. Men love that Texas twang.
That
, I am certain of, Miss Priss.” She crossed the room, plopped onto one of the queen-size beds and gave a low whistle. “Man-oh-man. These NAPI folks might think what we do is for dummies, but they shelled out some bucks for this room.”

“I'll say,” Debbie Sue said, still in awe at the quality of the furnishings. “This makes even those fancy hotels in Fort Worth look low-rent.”

Edwina arranged her pillows, lay back and crossed her ankles. “I think I'll call up Lloydena and tell her ‘Lloydena, honey, you gotta see this.'”

Fooling with the TV remote, Debbie Sue nodded her agreement.

Edwina sat upright. “Where's the john? I'm fixin' to pee
my pants.” She got to her feet and began to rummage in her suitcase. “And I'm going to change my clothes.” She headed for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later she emerged. She had changed into her size-eight Wranglers, tucked into the tops of pink knee-high, full-quill ostrich boots with turquoise eagles across the shafts. She had on a pink satin western shirt, the yokes piped with black satin. A black belt encrusted with glittering pink stones encircled her waist. Chandelier earrings of turquoise cabochons, accented with pink crystals, hung three inches from her earlobes. “I'm ready,” she announced. “Let's go downstairs.”

Debbie Sue looked up from where she'd been patiently lounging in an oversize chair and leafing through some literature left in the room. “Whoa! Look at you, rodeo queen. Is that belt a B.B. Simon?”

Edwina strutted around the room flashing the buckle proudly, “It sure is. Gen-u-ine Swarovski crystals. Vic bought it for me when he was in Fort Worth a few weeks ago.”

“I'm not even gonna ask what he paid for it. Can I borrow it sometime?”

“If you ever get it off me you can. With what my honey paid for this thing, I'll be holding my britches up with it for a long time. C'mon, let's go.”

“Just wait, dammit. I haven't even been in the bathroom yet. My hair hasn't been brushed all day. I gotta clean up, I gotta change clothes and I gotta call Buddy.”

“Hell, that's too many gotta's for me,” Edwina said. “I need a drink. I'll go ahead and leave the room to you. I'm
headed for the bar.” Edwina picked up one of the key cards and waved it over her head. “
Hasta luego
, girlfriend.”

“Yep, see you later.”

Then a tiny fear slithered through Debbie Sue. Edwina, running loose in New York City, even if it was just to the bar downstairs, was enough to propel her from her chair. Indeed, she wanted to see where “Good Morning America” was taped, but she sure didn't want to be on it. “Don't go anywhere but the bar, Ed. I'll be right behind you.”

 

Edwina stood in the dark hotel bar's open doorway, allowing her eyes time to adjust. Too many times she had dashed into a bar without that forethought and too many times her butt had met the carpet. Today, she wanted to make an impression, not leave one.

When she could see, she sauntered in and made her way to a tall stool at the bar. She loved sitting at the bar. There was something about being perched on the tall stools that was cool and sophisticated. Here she was, the aloof woman alone, sitting at the bar drinking. Men might have most of the advantages in life, but it was more fun being a female.

“Margarita. Straight up with salt,” she said to the bartender.

“Would you like that with our top-shelf tequila?” the young woman asked.

“Naw, I don't see the point in covering up good tequila. Just use the cheap stuff. If I get to the sipping stage, I'll order the good stuff.”

The young woman grinned. “A woman who knows how
to drink. My name's Mary. I'll be taking care of you this evening.”

Edwina cocked her head and grinned. “Well, now. Do yourself proud, Mary. And make that a double.” She chortled at her own joke.

She turned her head and noticed for the first time that she was being stared at by a woman sitting on the stool next to hers. The neighbor was about the same age as Debbie Sue, Edwina guessed. She even had hair down to her butt like Debbie Sue. It fell down her back in layers. Unlike her partner, Edwina saw that the neighbor wore heavy makeup—but it was artfully applied. She had on a slinky fire-engine-red dress, low cut and curve hugging, leaving nothing to the imagination. And it must be split all the way to kingdom come, Edwina figured, because she sat there with her legs crossed, exposing an ample amount of thigh. And her shoes. Black stiletto heels with a rhinestone strap around the ankle.

Hard-looking
, Edwina thought. But maybe that's what living in this big city did to an otherwise pretty woman. She did have good taste in shoes, though, which made her worth knowing. Edwina gave her a huge friendly grin. “How ya doin' this evenin'? My name's Edwina and I'm from Texas.”