Murder and Mayhem (11 page)

My sister’s voice cut into my concentration.

“Did you know the first Quakers to arrive in
Philadelphia in1681 lived in caves they dug in the banks of the Delaware
River?”

I looked up, not sure of the connection.

“No, I didn’t know that. But thanks for the heads up,”
I said, and kept typing.

“Did you know that William Penn called Philadelphia
the city of brotherly love?”

She kinda got my attention–but
it was wavering between, so what and who cares.

“Why?”

She shrugged.

“Haven’t a clue. It was before the time of free love
and hippies and flower children. Who knows what they were into back then?”

“Maybe there were a lot of gays during that period of
history,” I said, tongue in cheek.

“Could be, but I don’t think they were called gays,
then.”

I shrugged.
Like I care!

“Any more interesting little tidbits you want to
enlighten me on before I get back to the story.”

“Philadelphia was where the Declaration of
Independence was written…”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“The Constitution was molded...”

“Uh-huh, knew that one too.”

“… And the Liberty Bell was rung.”

“I actually knew that as well.
Is that it?”

“Not quite. Did you know Philadelphia was also the
city of firsts?”

My interest was piqued…, kind
of. On a score of one to ten it would barely rate a four. My fingers hovered
over the keys.

“Firsts?” I asked… and twitched
my nose.

Rosie
nodded. I could see she wasn’t going to let up until
she had passed on this wealth of knowledge. “That’s right. Firsts. Would you
like me to tell you what they were?”

“Sure. Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do. So go
ahead, my little historian, enlighten me.” I leaned back, made myself
comfortable and folded my arms, knowing full well she wouldn’t give up until
she got it out of her system.

She raised her right hand in the air and proceeded to
count off each item, folding down fingers as she went.

“The first American Hospital. The first medical
college. The first bank. The first zoo. And, the first daily newspaper.”

“Is that it?” I was about to resume typing when my
sister’s voice waded in through the fog.

“Nope, there’s more.”

I leaned back in the chair,
folded my arms and gave her my full and undivided attention. “Far be it for me
to stop you while you’re on a roll. Please continue,” I said with a wave of the
hand.

“Okay. Here goes. Philadelphia had the first mint, the
first paper mill, the first steamboat and the first sugar refinery. It was also
the place where the first public school for black children was opened, in
1750.” Rosie looked up and grinned, obviously proud of her achievements.

“My, my, we certainly are a little wellspring of
knowledge. How come you know all this?”

“When I married Drew I decided to learn as much as I
could about my adopted country. So I spent weeks at the Mill Valley library
reading up on American History.”

“I’m proud of you, Hon.”

“Of course that was years ago before Ben was born but
recently I was reading the history of Pennsylvania in one of Cody’s textbooks.
He had a test coming up and I wanted to quiz him.”

“Well, if I need to check any historical facts, I’ll
be sure to come to you first. How did he go with the test, by the way?”

“B plus.”

“Good to know we’ve got some brains in the family.”

I was doing a spell-check when my sister’s voice cut
through the silence.

“You used to go out with a gay guy, didn’t you?”

The question caught me completely unawares.

“Gay! He wasn’t gay!”

“Well, if he wasn’t gay what was he?”

“He was a cross-dresser. He liked to wear women’s
clothes.”

“Same horse, different rider,” she said with a shrug.

“That was a long time ago. I’m surprised you even
remember him. You would have only been a kid at the time.”

“Well I do. I remember walking in on him in the
bathroom one day. He was standing in front of the toilet, his dress hitched up,
frilly knickers down around his ankles – peeing into the bowl. Even at my
tender age I couldn’t help notice he wasn’t a woman.”

I had never heard this before. “So, what did he do
when he saw you?”

“Nothing. He just pulled up his lace knickers,
smoothed his dress down and tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Our
little secret,’ he said.”

“Weren’t you shocked?”

“Nup. I thought he was nice. What was his name again?”

“Allan – aka Simone.”

“That’s right. I remember now. You two used to be as
thick as thieves. Always going off together somewhere – parties, shopping,
foursome dinner dates. Simone always wore the most beautiful clothes. And her
hair and make-up was always perfect. Even Mum admired the way she looked – thought
she was a real lady.”

“She was my best friend at the time. We did everything
together. We’d go shopping and buy clothes that we both liked so we could share
them. Luckily we were the same size –except Simone’s feet were bigger than
mine.” I sighed. “Shame. Simone had great taste in shoes.”

“I remember you used to share the same bed whenever Simone
stayed the night. Good thing Mum didn’t know she was really a man.”

“God. No! She would have had a fit. Mum thought Simone
was the product of an upper class, private school education. She was always
telling me I should be more like her.”

“You have to admit Simone was glamorous. I remember
she was some kind of showgirl wasn’t she?”

“Simone was a female impersonator at Les Girls – up at
The Cross.”

“That’s right. And then she
disappeared and I never saw her again.”

“She went to Paris and became a famous showgirl at the
Crazy Horse nightclub or the Moulin Rouge.  She wanted me to go with her but I
was dating a really cute guy and didn’t want to leave. The last I heard she’d
married a wealthy Italian Count and lived in his Palazzo on Lake Como.” I
sighed as I recalled the hurried phone calls and scribbled postcards.

“She used to throw the most fabulous parties. Her
picture was always in the social pages and splashed across Europe’s top fashion
magazines.” I laughed. “I used to wonder if they knew she was really a man.
Simone had a great sense of humor. She would have loved all that attention – and
the glamorous lifestyle.”

“Whatever became of her?” Rosie asked after a while.

I shrugged. “Who knows? That was a lifetime ago.” We
said nothing for a bit both lost in our own reminiscences. Finally I shook away
the cobwebs and said, “Shall we get on with the story?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m dying to find out what happens
next.”

*****

Room 807 looked down on the murky black water of the
Delaware River, lit by a cascade of lights from the Ben Franklin Bridge and
buildings along the waterfront. Across the water where history told an entirely
different tale, the lights of New Jersey blinked up at them, less brilliant.

Nicola was standing in front of the mirror when she noticed
Danny watching her.

She gathered her hair in a knot at the back and
clipped it in place. “Danny, I don’t feel comfortable with you paying for
everything. I think we should share the expenses,” she said to his reflection.

“Here’s the thing, darling’,” he said the word
Texan-style. “I was coming on this trip whether you were with me or not so I
would have to pay for the room anyway. The same goes for the SUV and gas.”

“I understand. So let’s do it this way; how about you
pay for the accommodation and transport, and I’ll pay for everything else?”

Danny shook his head, his gray eyes smiling. “Nope,
that wouldn’t work. I’d feel like a kept man.”

“I just don’t feel right about you paying for
everything,” Nicola said.

“Look, Nic. I’m just happy to have you with me. It’s
so much more fun when you’ve got someone to share things with. The last couple
of years have been pretty lonely on the road on my own so you’re doing me a
favor just by being here.”

Nicola thought she noted a hint of sadness in his
words. Her eyes met his in the silvered glass. “I can see I’m not going to win
this one so I guess there’s no point in arguing,” she said as she dropped her
hairbrush into her bag and checked her teeth for lipstick smudges.

“The last thing we want this early in the trip is to
have an argument over something as trivial as who’s paying for what.” Danny
looked at his watch. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s see what
we can rustle up by the way of food in this town?”

TWELVE

I heard the back door open–and then close. As was
always the case at our mother’s house, family and friends came in through the
back door. Visitors, salesmen and dark-suited Mormons were the only ones who
came to the front. When the doorbell chimed, if we weren’t expecting anyone, we
ignored it.

“Hello, anybody home?” I heard Ross call from the
kitchen.

“We’re in here.”

Ross strolled into the room with
one of my sister’s floral aprons draped over his arm. He glanced around the
room, made a quick reconnaissance–and said, “Where is everyone?”

I watched him tie the apron around his waist and my
heart fluttered. Probably heartburn I thought as I tried to remember which
television star he reminded me of. And then it came to me like a bolt out of
the blue–the short, bald-headed biker from The Hairy Biker’s Cookbook.
Definitely heartburn!

I glared at him over the top of my glasses. “What do
you mean, w
here is everybody?
We’re here, aren’t we? Who else were you
expecting?” Television star or not, he’d better come up with a good answer.

“Sorry, Bee, I was looking for
my little mate.”

I knew he was referring to our nephew, Cody. Those two
were like peas in a pod. Even though Ross was only five-foot-nine-inches tall,
and Cody an inch or so shy of six foot, if he had hair he’d be getting up there.
As for the weight issue–we won’t even go there.

I eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with Cody?”

He shifted from one foot to other, like a cat on a hot
tin roof.

“
I was going to take him to see the boys.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Boys! And what
boys
would
that be?”

“You know, Bee…, the guys.”

I puckered my lips in a tight little moue and shook my
head. “Do you mean that hairy, tattooed, wild bunch of misogynistic miscreants,
who, if they had half a brain, would have the words, made in Milwaukee, stamped
on it?” I folded my arms and waited for him to come up with an answer.

“Ah gee, Bee. They’re not all bad. Some of the guys
are family men.”

“If by family you mean Satan’s Devils or The Burritos
or whatever else you call yourselves, the word “family” doesn’t belong in the
same sentence!”

“Gee, Bee, Cody wanted to meet the guys.”

I glared at him over the top of glasses. “Cody is
not
going to meet the
guys,
so you can put that idea right out of your
head. They’re nothing but a bunch of
flaneurs,
” I added.

My sister, who, up until now, had been contemplating
her navel, so to speak, looked up. “What’s a
flaneur,
Bubbie
?
”

“Someone who cares nothing for, nor contributes to,
the rest of society,” I told her.

“You mean worthless, no-account lay-a-bouts–like politicians?”

I nodded. “They’re a bunch of self-indulgent,
self-centered, self-absorbed, self-serving, sons-of-bitches who rape, steal and
rip-off hardworking taxpayers. The motorcycle marauders, on the other hand,
pollute the gene pool.”

“But, Bee …”

“Don’t, but Bee, me. The matter is closed.
Do I
make myself clear
?”

Ross nodded, his face dour, but then he looked at my
sister and his face suddenly brightened.

“Would you like to see my new tattoo, Hon?”

I rolled my eyes to the heavens, but if anyone was there
they gave me no sign. “Trust me on this, Hon; you do not want to see it.”

Rosie laughed. “Where is it, Ross?”

I shook my head. “Believe me, girlfriend, you really
don’t want to know.”

Ross heaved a long drawn-out sigh… and said, “I guess
I’ll go fix dinner.” Then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “How does
cream of mushroom soup, followed by Atlantic salmon with asparagus tips in
hollandaise sauce, sound? I found a great little market in Larkspur this
morning that sells everything fresh.”