As Mia withdrew into the crime scene, Mother came toward Brian and me, smoothing her jacket like a bed she was making.
“
They
don't seem to value my insights,” she huffed, “but
you
do, don't you, Interim Chief Lawson?”
Brian's jaw muscles flexed, ever so slightly. “That's âChief Lawson,' Mrs. Borne.”
“Oh, please feel free to call me âVivian.' Any friend of Brandy's is a friend of mine. So, you
have
been made permanent chief, then?”
“No, but I
am
acting chief.”
Mother's eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Oh my
bad
, as the children say.
Not
Interim Chief Lawson.”
“That's right.”
“I won't make that mistake again, Acting Chief Lawson.”
Brian's jaw muscles flexed again,
not
so slightly, so I said, “Chief? I'd like get to Peggy Sue out of here. Could you take our statements tomorrow, either at home or at the station? Whatever's convenient?”
I only dared to suggest that the Borne girls might all leave the crime scene, knowing Brian stood between Mother and meâotherwise she would have kicked me in the shin. Or shins.
“All right,” he said. “Late morning? Station okay?”
“Fine,” I said, and gave him as warm a smile as I could under the circumstances. “We'll see you then.”
He smiled tightly. “Just you, Brandy. Your statement should cover it. I can always follow up with a phone call to Mrs. Borne.”
“
Vivian,
” Mother insisted.
“Vivian,” he said with a nod.
I'd expected a vehement protest from Mother, being excluded from the police station visit, but to my surprise Mother only added, “I'm quite content having Brandy speak for the two of usâafter all,
she
was first to discover poor Big Jim Bob.”
Munson, having stepped out of the unit, was motioning for Brian, who then left us to huddle with his officer.
Mother whispered in my ear, “Dear, you'll be able to get more information out of the acting chief without me along. He's still mad about you, you know. A perfect opportunity to deploy your feminine wiles.”
Feminine wiles:
beauty and charm used by a woman to get a man to do something.
You're rightâI don't think it sounds like me, either.
Brian returned to us. “The coroner is on his way.”
I nodded. “Then it's okay for us to leave?”
He nodded back. “We have a lot more work to do here and ...” He flicked a glance at Mother, and I got the picture: we would just be underfoot.
So before Mother could make any more trouble, I took her by the arm and led her to the Buick; after telling her to stay (knowing she was no more liable to follow that command than Sushi), I went over to the Caddie to see if Peggy Sue was up to driving herself home.
She insisted she was, and in fact seemed just fine now. Soon our two-car caravan was moving slowly out of the drive, passing the paramedic truck as it rolled in with lights flashing but no siren.
As we passed, Mother powered down her window, stuck her head out, and shrilled, “Not needed! Not needed!”
I cringed. “Well, your
yelling
wasn't needed, all right!”
“It most certainly was.” She powered the window back up and folded her arms like a nightclub bouncer. “Dear, it's a waste of taxpayer money to send a vehicle like that out burning fuel, and wasting electricity with those flashing lights. If I don't make my opinions known, how are improvements to be made around this town?”
We were in the country, but I didn't point that out. We just fell silent. Sis was back to her tailgating ways again, but this time I let her get away with it. The fog was still thick and we were just crawling, anyway.
“You know, Brian would make a suitable husband,” Mother mused, shifting gears even if I was the one driving. “He may not be the brightest crayon in the box ... but with my help he could make a decent chief of policeâinterim, acting, or otherwise.”
And a great conduit for police information.
Mother went on: “I
do
understand that you're still pining away for Tony Cassato, and he
was
a handsome brooding brute of a man ... but, dear, you can't be certain you'll ever even
see
him again. It's time to move on. Just step up to that counter and say,
âNext!' ”
I kept quiet.
“By the way, dear, were you ever intimate with Tony?”
Good thing I wasn't drinking anything, because that one rated a spit-take all over the dashboard.
I shot her a glare. “Mother, there's such a thing as privacy! How can you ask me that?”
She was staring into the fog, perhaps looking out for icebergs. “Because I'm your motherâ
and
grandmother. That gives me
twice
the right.”
Typical Mother reasoning.
I said, “I was seven months pregnant at the time Tony and I got serious, so what do
you
think?”
(Last year, I played a role that outperformed anything Mother had ever done at the local PlayhouseâI was surrogate mother for my best friend and her husband, who couldn't have children. Are you newbies keeping up?)
Mother was saying, “A third-term pregnancy never stopped me. Why, it was some of the bestâ”
“Stop! La la la la la la! Don't want to hear it! Do
not
want to hear it!” Much less have any images form in my mind... .
“Very well, dear. I just wanted to show that I was willing to tear down the walls of my own privacy, in order to enlighten you.”
“Well, I'm plenty enlightened already, thanks. Keep your walls up and untorn.”
“Fine.”
We fell silent again.
The fog began to clear; after a while, I risked a glance at Mother. “I
am
sorry about Big Jim Bob.”
Staring out her side window now that looming icebergs were no longer a threat, she sighed. “I am, too. He was such a
dear
man. I'll cry about him later. In my own veil of privacy.”
Mother did have a remarkable ability to compartmentalize, to handle a crisis first, then deal with emotions later. To some, her lack of empathy made her seem cold. I knew better.
But she had touched on what was bothering me about my relationship with Tony: our love, if that was what it was, had been frozen in the early stage of our courtship, when everything was exciting and heady and just on the brink of intimacy.
Swell of music here.
Had it been allowed to progress, we might well have discovered we weren't meant for each other, and our love could have withered and died.
Music down.
But with Tony suddenly yanked from my life, I somehow couldn't seem to move on... .
I pulled into our driveway, Peggy Sue nosing in behind. The house was darkâwhich of course wouldn't bother blind little Sushiâbut seemed unsettling in the aftermath of a murder discovery.
Inside, I switched on the entry light, then the ceiling lights in the living room, and there was Sushi, sitting patiently on the Oriental rug, waiting. And clutching by one corner with her sharp little teeth ...
. . .
that valuable Superman drawing.
Mother and I froze, Peggy Sue bumping into us. Still tailgating.
I whispered to Mother, “She's upset we've been gone so long.”
“Yes,” Mother whispered back. “How did the little devil know that particular item was the one we cared about most?”
“Must have our scent all over it ... plus she heard us oohing and aahing.
Don't anybody move
.”
“What's going on?” Sis demanded.
“Shhhh ...” I ordered.
I moved forward, slowly. “Sushi, honey, be a good girl. Let it go.”
Soosh backed up with her prize.
“I know what will do the trick!” Mother said, then rushed into the kitchen.
In a moment came the sound of a potato chip bag rustling.
But Sushi remained still, spooky white eyes unblinking. If her little head had done a complete
Exorcist
turn on her little neck, I wouldn't have been a bit surprised.
“Try cookies,” I hollered.
“We're out of cookies,” Mother hollered back.
“How about that leftover meat loaf?” To Sushi I said, “I double-dog
dare
you to ignore that.”
Our eyes were locked in a battle of wills. And I knew I was very likely outmatched... .
Mother returned with a container of yesterday's dinner, which she placed in front of Sushi.
The little dog's nose twitched, but the drawing remained clutched in her teeth.
I said, “Mother,
she
doesn't want the meat loaf, so why don't
we
have it?”
“Ah! Capital idea, dear!”
And I got down on my hands and knees in front of the bowl, pretending to eat.
Mother followed suit.
Two adult women, huddled around a Tupperware bowl like a couple of hounds at a doggie dish. Dignity be damnedâa valuable collectible was at stake.
Peggy Sue, still in the entryway, muttered, “Oh, for pity's sake. You're worse than that silly animal. I'm going upstairs.”
I could see Sushi weakening, jaw going slack, then, finally. . . the drawing fluttered to the floor.
Whereby, Mother snatched it up.
Soosh scurried over and began gobbling the meat loaf, as we examined the drawing.
Finally, Mother concluded, “Surprisingly unharmed ... a few tooth marks on this one corner, but not a nibble on the artwork.”
I pointed. “Little slobber, there.”
Mother brushed it off. “Good as new.”
We both sighed with relief.
To avoid any further act of canine retribution, I spent the next hour playing with Sushi, until she and I were exhausted. Then I took her upstairs, depositing her on my bed.
But before turning in, I went to check on Peggy Sue. A light was shining beneath the closed door, so I knocked, then went in without waiting for permission.
She was in her pink robe, propped up in bed, reading Mother's tattered copy of
The Power of Positive Thinking
, itself darn near an antique.
“You okay?” I asked.
Sis set the book aside. I sat on the edge of the bed near her.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I ... I don't mean to be offensive.”
“Go on.”
“It's just that ... I don't want to be like you and Mother.”
“You won't be.”
“I
will
if I stay here.” She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.
“Book not working, huh?”
She continued to sob.
“Look,” I said softly, “I know you're in a bad place right now, but it won't last forever. Things will get better. Mother and I are a quirky couple of kooks. But it's not catching.”
“It's in the blood.”
“Seems to have skipped a generation.”
She smiled weakly and sniffled mightily, looking up from her hands. “You don't know what I'm going throughâwhat it's like to lose everything and come crawling home.”
“Really? Kinda sounds like me not so long ago.”
Peggy Sue stared. Then, looking a little sheepish, she said, “I suppose you're right. I was just thinking of myself.
Typical.
”
“Oh, that's not so.” Sure it was.
Her eyes searched my face. “It's just that, well, you seem to
like
it here.”
I grunted a little. “I wouldn't say that. Life around the Borne homestead's just a comfortable old shoe I can slip onâdoesn't mean I wouldn't like a brand-new pair. Anyway, I'm only here because I don't know what I want to do next with my life.”
“Me either.”
I touched her arm. “Maybe we could ... figure it out together?”
She granted me the tiniest smile. “Maybe.”
I returned to my room, where Sushi had stretched out in the middle of the bed. I turned out the light and, not bothering to remove my clothes, flopped on the slice of bed she had left me.