Pink Flamingoed (12 page)

“No, that was God. Moses just got the credit,” Brad
replied. “Now, let’s try this again. Do you know who Moses is?”

“I assume you mean the Moses of e-mail fame.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“No, I don’t have any idea who Moses is, but I did
receive an e-mail from him or her.”

“So did I.”

“And what did yours say?” Amy asked.

“It said, ‘If you need any ideas for your books, I
have plenty of them.’ And what did yours say?”

“It said, ‘Do you take blackmail photographs?’ So, who
do you think is sending these messages?”

“My first guess was our murderer across the street,
since we don’t know who or what Norman has buried in his basement floor, but
then I saw that it’s someone on Scott’s list, so I guess that rules out Norman,
since I don’t think Scott has ever met him. He hasn’t, has he?”

“Not as far as I know. I bet it’s someone just having
fun with both of us. Do you think it might be Cora, or maybe Harry? Or do you
think this might be another of Scott’s charades?”

“I don’t know, but it sure is giving me some great
ideas for a book.”

+++

By the time Sunday arrived, practically everyone in
the church had gotten at least one e-mail from “Moses.” Of course, it could be
that one of them was merely trying to avoid suspicion. At any rate, Scott
refused to divulge the identity of anyone on his e-mail list, but he did seem
to enjoy the fact that so many people had heard from “Moses.”

They could not get any information out of the pastor,
so the group huddled after church to share their clues with one another. None
of the messages revealed much, except that “Moses” knew something about each
person he or she e-mailed. With no solution at hand, the group turned to Plan
B, trying to figure out what “Moses” meant.

“Little Miss Smarty Pants over here said that Moses is
the one who parted the Red Sea,” Brad said.

“And Sherlock here said that God did it, but I doubt
if God is into e-mail,” Amy said.

“I’m not sure about that,” Brad countered. “Anyone who
can part the Red Sea can surf the net.”

The group groaned and then Harry broke in.

“Well, Moses did lay down the law, so maybe it’s
Cora.”

“That’s right, Tightwad. I’ll be right over as soon as
I can find my stone tablets. After all, Moses broke his first set. Your head
should be a good test for mine.”

After ten minutes of sleuthing, the group was no
closer to a solution than when they began.

“Have any of you gotten an e-mail from a guy named
‘handsome?’” Melanie asked.

When no one said they had heard from “handsome,”
Melanie said, “Good, maybe he does want to buy a house. It’s probably that he’s
been too busy to get back to me.”

Melanie’s comment gave Harry an idea. “Handsome” would
e-mail “Moses” and if anyone let it slip that he or she had gotten an e-mail
from “handsome,” Harry would have his man, or woman.

January slipped by via snowflakes, an ice storm, and a
couple of rainy days. Brad took advantage of the weather and a large number of
ideas for his book to spend more time writing than usual. Amy missed spending
more time with Brad, but had plenty of time for mother-daughter chats with her
other next-door neighbor, and spent time visiting with Allison. Twice during
Brad’s busy time, Amy talked Allison into a picture-taking excursion throughout
the neighborhood, or had it been Allison who suggested the idea? At any rate,
the two young women had a great time.

Harry hovered over the computer so much that Ethel
phoned Cora and asked for a ride to The Printed Page. Ethel bought novels and a
few crossword puzzle books. She was curious what kind of books her next-door
neighbor had written. Ethel selected a couple of Brad’s books, and a couple of
classics. Harry was so preoccupied with his computer that he failed to notice
the money missing from the checking account. After receiving Rachel’s approval,
Ethel gave her cell phone number to all of her neighbors, so they could get in
touch with her.

Another snowfall hit in late January, and the Armbruster
family took a break from preparing sermons, fatherhood, motherhood, and
home-school to engage in a family project of building a snowman. One time, when
both parents went inside at the same time, Kenny neglected the snowman and
manufactured some snowballs to throw at his sisters. After their parents
returned, Kenny, engrossed in  building  the  snowman,  failed  to  notice 
his  sisters sneaking up behind him. Jill reached inside his coat and shoved
snow down the front of his shirt. Mallory wrapped her arms around her brother’s
legs, then pushed snow down the back of his pants. When another snow fell the
next night, Scott called everyone on the street and invited them to make a
second snowman. Harry asked if there would be food. Nancy agreed to make a few
hot snacks, as well as serve coffee and hot chocolate to combat the cold.

Kenny shared his snowball story with Brad, who fired a
snowball missile at Amy. Brad, like Kenny, soon learned that “he who goes last,
gets even.” After Brad’s mind wandered to something else, Amy sneaked down the
Armbrusters’ drive and rescued a coil of rope from inside the garage. Brad
noticed nothing as Allison silently wheeled up behind him. With Amy’s help,
Allison lassoed the rope around Brad, secured his arms and hands. Trying to get
away, Brad tripped over Allison’s wheelchair and fell back into her lap. This
gave Amy ample time “to do unto another,” and Allison did not mind that she
caught a little of the snow intended for Brad. The three of them enjoyed a good
laugh, but Brad vowed to find a male friend so he could even the odds.

All the young folks enjoyed watching the old folks get
involved. Harry slipped and fell down trying to get away from one of Cora’s
snowballs, which gave Cora more time to hit a stationary target. Even Doc took
off work. With the older folks involved, he felt he might have more of an
opportunity to treat an injured person and have fun in the process. Once Amy
and Allison had finished with Brad, they found props to use for the snowman’s
facial features. Ethel and Bertha supplied a top hat and scarf, although Barney
complained that nothing on the snowman was red. Harry pulled Kenny off to the
side and told him what building a snowman was like when he was a boy. Kenny
always enjoyed listening to Harry talk about the old days, especially when
Harry embellished his tales. Kenny dismissed  the fact that most of the
snowfalls in Harry’s day were of the three feet variety, as well as the fact
that it was much tougher making a snowman then, because the temperature held
steady at thirty below zero. Kenny wasn’t sure whether or not Harry put
cardboard in the bottom of his shoes in order to keep warmer or did it to see
that his shoes lasted longer. In Kenny’s mind, Harry saved the best part for
last, as Harry told Kenny how he had pelted his sister with snowballs several
times before she could escape to the house.

+++

While Brad managed to see Amy every day and ate a meal
with her every now and then, more time spent on his book meant he had neglected
her somewhat. When the first of the month came and Brad flipped his calendar to
February and scanned the month’s events, an idea struck him. Quickly, Brad
grabbed his coat, hurried out the door, and crossed the yard to the house next
door. As Amy answered his knock, the smile on Brad’s face resembled a smirk.

Amy looked at her boyfriend leaning against the door
frame.

“What’s gotten into you, Mr. Holmes? You look as if
you just figured out where Professor Moriarity hid the Star of Delhi. Does that
mean you know who Moses is?”

“No, I’ve been so busy writing that I haven’t had time
to do any sleuthing.”

“Okay, so what’s up? I hate it when I’m in a group of
two and I’m the one who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“How well I know. I came to ask you a question. How
long have we known each other?”

“Today is our two month anniversary of knowing each
other. Does that mean you’ve got something planned?”

Brad ignored Amy’s question and asked another.

“And in the two  months  that  we’ve  known each
other, how many times have we been out on a date?”

“Does church count as a date?”

“Afraid not.”

“How about dinner at Frank and Cora’s?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Dinner at my place?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’d say somewhere around zero.”

“A round zero is correct, Dr. Watson, and I think
someone as pretty as you needs to go out from time to time. Does this burg have
a fine restaurant by any chance?”

“Well, there’s the diner a couple of blocks down the
street. You know, the place I told you Allison and I went to lunch.”

“I said a fine restaurant.”

“Well, Martinelli’s is pretty good.”

“And would the young lady like to be my valentine
dinner date at Martinelli’s?”

“The church is having a valentine dinner, the Saturday
night before Valentine’s Day, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“And I would be delighted to take you there, as well,
but I still want to take you out for Valentine’s Day. I don’t want you to get
the opinion that I’m as much of a skinflint as Harry is.”

“Well, that thought did cross my mind.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I was just kidding. Are you really serious about
going to Martinelli’s? The menu is a tad bit pricey.”

“And my valentine is a tad bit special.”

“Okay, then, I’d love to go. However, if we’re going,
you need to make a reservation soon. While the place does hold around one
hundred people, everyone in town knows it’s the place to go if you want to
impress someone.”

“Just leave it to me. I’ll make the reservation as
soon as I get back to the house.”

“Oh, Brad. I’m so happy.”

“Uh-oh. Does that mean that you’re going to call Cora
so that everyone in the neighborhood will know about our date before noon?”

“I’m not sure about everyone. I’m sure that Norman is fast asleep.”

“Or dead. You still haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Never.”

“I wonder if Kenny would like to do some snooping for
us.”

“Don’t you dare, Brad! You’ll get us both kicked out
of the church.”

“Excommunicated, I believe they call it.”

As Brad went home to call Martinelli’s to make a
reservation for the fourteenth, Amy rushed to the phone to call Cora.

“Oh, Cora, oh Cora!”

“Is something wrong, Amy?”

“No, something is very right!”

“He didn’t ask you to marry him, did he?”

“Of course not, but he did ask me out on a date.”

“Well, it’s about time. No, it’s way past time. Where
are you going?”

“We’re going to Martinelli’s for Valentine’s Day!”

“So are we! Frank made our reservation yesterday. You
don’t mind if we’re there, too, do you?”

“Absolutely not! I’m sure Brad had no intention of
booking the entire restaurant just for us.”

“I’m so excited for you. A date at last. Well, Amy, I
guess I’d better go practice.”

“Practice what, Cora?”

“Looking in two directions at once. Since Frank cares
enough to take me there, I must keep one eye on him, but then I’ll want to keep
one eye on the two of you.”

“I don’t think I’ll tell Brad that you’re going to be
there, too. I wouldn’t want him to change his mind.”

+++

While “Moses” was mentioned once or twice at church
the following Sunday and “handsome” was not mentioned at all, most of the
conversations were about Valentine’s Day, either the dinner at church or where
everyone was going on the fourteenth. Brad glanced at Cora. The look in her eye
when she stalked Harry after church alerted all snoopers that Harry would soon
be dead meat.

“So, Harry, where are you taking Ethel for Valentine’s
Day?” Cora asked.

“We’re thinking about coming to the dinner at the
church. How much is it?”

“It’s fifteen dollars a couple, but that’s not what I
asked you.”

“I don’t know if we can afford fifteen dollars.”

“What kind of flowers did you say you wanted at your
funeral, Harry?”

“Oh, Cora. You’re always making it tough on me, and
you’re not even my wife.”

“That’s right! I must remember to thank God for that.
But anyway, someone has to take up for Ethel. I’d hate to see her be the only
wife who’s not going out for Valentine’s Day, just because she’s married to a
skinflint.”

“Okay, Cora. We’ll come to the church dinner.”

“Of course, you will, Harry, but that’s not what I
asked you. Where are you taking Ethel on Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh, we’re going to celebrate it, too.”

“Harry said we can order pizza. He says it’s so
romantic,” Ethel said as she walked up and overheard the conversation.

“Pizza? Well, I never,” Cora responded.

“Well, you should sometime, Cora. Pizza’s really
good,” Harry said, still not knowing when to keep his mouth shut around Cora.

“All you’re going to order is pizza?” Cora asked.

“Oh, no, Cora. Harry said that since it was
Valentine’s Day, we could have breadsticks, too.”

“Ethel, would you excuse Harry and me for a minute,
while I decide whether or not Harry will still be alive to celebrate
Valentine’s Day?”

Cora gave Ethel a chance to walk away before she lit
into Harry again.

“Harry, if you don’t want Ethel to be a widow, then
you’d better call Martinelli’s today and make a reservation for Valentine’s
Day.”

“But, they’re so expensive.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been there.”

“But someone told me they were.”

“And now, Harry, someone has told you that you’re
going there to find out for yourself. Now, are you going home and make a
reservation right after church, or should I call the mortuary and make
arrangements?”

“Oh, Cora.”

“Don’t, ‘oh Cora’ me, Harry. And Frank and I will be
there that night, too, so I’ll know whether you took Ethel there or not.”

“There’s always the possibility that we might miss
each other.”

“On Valentine’s Day Martinelli’s has only one seating.
We won’t miss each other. Who knows, Harry? We might be unlucky enough to sit
next to each other.”

+++

The evening of the church valentine dinner arrived.
There were couples, singles, and children; three children, to be exact.
Everyone dined on a spaghetti with meatballs dinner, complete with a garden
salad, French bread with garlic butter, and German chocolate cake for dessert.

“Hey, Rothrock, are you and Amy going to suck on the
same strand of spaghetti until you meet in the middle?” Kenny asked.

“Listen, Kensington, don’t knock it until you’ve tried
it. After all, look at what it did for Lady and the Tramp.”

“I guess I’m just not into pressing lips with a girl.”

“That time will soon be here, my young friend.”

“Hey, Brad, tell me something. The first time you, you
know, kissed a girl, did your noses get in the way?”

“Absolutely! That’s what practice is for.”

“Yeah, but who do you practice with? I’m not about to
kiss some other guy, and my mom and my sisters are out of the question.”

“Kensington, my boy, there’s a good chance the young
lady will have no more kissing experience than you’ve had, so you’ll do okay
when the time comes.”

“So, Rothrock, tell me this. Has the time come for you
to kiss Amy, yet?”

“That, my dear Kensington, is for me to know and you
to never find out.”