NINETEEN
On New Year's Eve morning I found myself loitering on the streets again but this time I was in downtown Camdenton. Luckily, I didn't have to wear fishnets and short shorts to get this job done. Instead, I had on my usual black sweats with the obligatory fluorescent-emblazoned SHERIFF in big yellow letters. Unlike my hooker threads, this outfit kept the johns away in droves.
Truth was I awaited Bud, who was late. The day was overcast and gloomy. Imagine that, right? And fit my mood precisely. Snow-laden clouds lumbered overhead and teased us with a storm. Did I live at the Arctic Circle? Is that it? All I needed was an igloo and a pet penguin. For the past week we'd been doing background checks on the graduates of the academy without a whole lotta luck, and the weather wasn't exactly helping our investigation, either.
Then Bud appeared out of nowhere and strode down the street toward me.
I greeted him politely. “It's about damn time.”
“Hey man, I've been checkin' out alibis all mornin' long. You find out yet what kind of spider that was at your house?”
“Animal Control said it was harmless. Lots of them out in the woods around here, indigenous to the Ozarks. Want me to catch one you can call Fido?”
He shuddered. “Thanks, but no thanks. I've got a goldfish.”
“Maybe I'll give it to Shaggy as a late Christmas present. I bet he likes things that are creepy.”
Bud glanced around. “Okay, what's up? You get a new lead?” “Nope. I need a favor.”
Bud looked interested. I happened to be a pretty self-sufficient gal. I don't think I ever asked him for a favor before.
“What kind of favor?” Now he sounded suspicious. He looked around some more, perplexed.
“Promise you won't laugh?”
“Yeah.”
A couple of teenagers holding hands passed by. I waited a second then lowered my voice. “I need you to help me pick out a dress with that gift certificate you gave me.”
Bud laughed. Loudly. With feeling.
I scowled. “Give me a break, Bud. Why'd you give me a gift certificate if you didn't want me to use it?”
He sobered instantly. “Sorry. I went into shock, is all. I always laugh when I'm shocked. Are you really gonna use that gift certificate?”
“Yes.”
“For a dress?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I've never seen you look like a real woman before.”
“Thanks.”
Bud shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I'm honored. Really.”
“Well, sometimes you look pretty nice. You know, the kind of clothes you pick out, and stuff.” I felt idiotic. “Okay, this thing tonight out at the academy is pretty hoity-toity from what I've heard. I don't know what kind of stuff they wear to things like that so you're going to have to help me out.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “I am touched, Claire. I will not let you down.”
“You gonna help me pick out a dress, or not?”
“Sure. Swank's is right around the corner. Ever been there?”
“What do you think?”
Bud grinned his cheesiest grin. “Just follow my lead and don't say anything. And don't pull your weapon if they ask you to try it on.”
“Shut up, Bud.”
We walked into Swank's Couture, as uppity as that sounded, and I stamped snow off my combat boots on their white, velvety-looking rug. A white, three-tier fountain in the foyer made soft gurgles that made me look for the ladies' room. Mannequins that made Boston high-society dames look friendly stood all around in various stages of undress. I immediately hated everything I saw.
Most all the walls were mirrored, with lots of recessed spotlights in alcoves illuminating lots of stuck-up dummies. And I don't mean Bud and me.
A moment later the Ice Queen of Finland walked through some gold velvet tasseled draperies. She had the long shapely legs and proud carriage of Las Vegas showgirls. Bud noticed, stood straighter. His smile deepened; he drooled a little. She looked at us and said, “Hello, my name's Brianna. May I help you find something?”
Her expression, quickly hidden, told me that she thought we desperately needed her help. She pulled herself together, “Oh, I remember you, sir. You came in just before Christmas and bought a gift certificate for some lucky girl.” She definitely had an accent, one which called to mind reindeer and Land of the Midnight Sun. What was with all the accents? Was this mid-Missouri or the United Nations?
I said, “Yes, ma'am, Brianna, that lucky girl would be me.”
Brianna dragged her eyes off Bud's handsome eagerness and turned her attention on me, as if she hadn't realized until that very moment that I was a girl. Maybe Bud was right getting me a dress. “Oh, hello. Please, what can I do to assist you?”
I presented the gift certificate, glad to get rid of it. “Okay, here's the deal. I need a dress, but I don't want anything with ruffles or lace, and no sequins or gaudy jewelry stuff sewed on it. No embroidery, either, and not sheer, and I don't want any cleavage showing. And it's got to be under three hundred dollars. And it's got to be floor length to hide my ankle holster.”
Miss Finland blinked. She looked back at Bud. He shrugged, embarrassed, I guess. “She's a tomboy,” he offered.
“Well, we can certainly deal with that,” she said, her eyes alight with the challenge of me.
“Uh-uh. No dealing with that, no way. I just need a simple dress to wear to that high-horse ball thing tonight. You know, tuxes and fancy dresses.”
Bud said, “Hey, Brianna, you know where they get that phrase âhigh horse'?”
Brianna beamed at him. “Actually, yes, I do. I believe âhigh horse' comes from the olden days when knights rode big, tall steeds called chargers and everybody else had to ride on donkeys or regular horses. Thus high horse implies something worthy of nobility.”
Bud's jaw dropped, then his eyes lit up with astonished admiration. He was in love, I feared. He said, “That's right. How'd you know?”
“I have this wonderful book on the origins of popular sayings. It's really fascinating reading.”
Boy, did that ever turn Bud on. I was afraid their hot looks and sappy grins were going to fuse them together for all eternity so I cleared my throat rather loudly. I had a dress to buy and time was a-wasting.
With some difficulty, Brianna broke her steamy, phrase-origins-induced eye lock with Bud. She forced herself to look at me, even though I didn't give a damn about popular sayings. She said, “And this is a black-tie affair?”
“Yeah.” I actually knew what black tie meant, and white tie, too, but I let her feel superior. Not that she probably already didn't.
“Please follow me.”
As she moved away, Bud leaned close and whispered into my ear. “I'm almost positive she's got the hots for me.”
“You'll have to melt her first.”
He smiled, pure confidence. “You think I can't? I'm gonna ask her out on a date. She's flirtin' with me, big-time. I know when somebody's interested in me, and she definitely is. And she's read my favorite book. Wow, who would've thought somethin' like this could happen right outta the blue?”
I figured she'd just been checking out his Whopper with Cheese breath.
“Just help me find a dress that doesn't look stupid, okay?”
“Sure.”
Fin led us back through the spacious, sparkling shop, past lots more studied spotlights and mirrors and big palm trees and sparkling chandeliers and snurly-lipped mannequins. Some of them had cardigan sweaters tied around their shoulders over matching pullovers. I really hated people who tied sweaters around their shoulders over pullover sweaters. How fake is that? Just stuff the damn thing in a duffel bag or leave it in the car.
“Here we go, miss. Please have a seat in the viewing alcove and let me display some possible choices. Now what size are you? A six, perhaps? Four?”
I shrugged. “I wear a small in bulletproof vests.”
Fin laughed, an honest sound, and suddenly I liked her better. “I'll look for something that'll look good with Kevlar.”
I watched her move away toward some big mirrors that turned out to be a hidden door. “Hey, Bud, she knows what our vests are made out of. That's a good sign, too. Better grab her up.”
We spent the wait quietly comparing notes about the status of our investigation, shoptalk, while she did her thing. When she appeared again, she was pushing a rolling rack lined with glittery floor-length gowns.
“Here we are, Miss Morgan. I've selected several different styles for you to try on.”
“How do you know my name?”
“It was written on the gift certificate you gave me. Do you see anything here that suits your fancy?”
Suits my fancy? “I don't really need to try on anything.”
“Yes, you do.” That was Bud. “Got to, Claire.”
“Oh, get real, Bud. I don't have time for this. Just pick one out and let's go. I've got a briefing with Charlie.”
“We have a fashion salon in-house with a very talented makeup artist and hairstylist, if you'd be interested,” Fin offered hopefully. “You'd be surprised what a difference they can make.”
“Can they make me look like those snooty dummies?”
Brianna laughed again. What do you know, she finds me amusing. She glanced around and then lowered her voice. “This place comes off pretty pretentious, doesn't it?”
I was liking her better and better, so I actually considered trying on a dress. Bud was picking through the dresses like Ralph Lauren or somebody, sliding them one by one across the rack. “What color you like, Claire? Here's an aqua one that matches your eyes.”
“Nah, too aqua.”
“Okay, how about this golden-beige one that matches your hair?”
“Nah, too golden beige.”
Brianna took charge. “Miss Morgan, you strike me as a woman who'd go in for simplicity, which is always the best way to go, in my opinion. How about basic black? What about this one?”
She draped it over her arm and held it out for my perusal. I perused it for about ten seconds and said, “Okay, I'll take it if it's under three hundred bucks.”
Brianna lifted the price tag and read it aloud. “Well, it's close. It's three fifteen plus tax.”
“What else do you have?”
“Claire, for God's sake, it's just an extra twenty bucks.” Bud again.
“Okay, okay, wrap it up. I'll pay the extra.”
Brianna smiled and took it to the cash register in a different little alcove that looked like a miniature Taj Mahal. It had a chandelier over the cash register so there'd be enough light for rich people to write big checks for little scraps of dresses that cost $315 plus tax.
I dug out the extra cash and handed it to her. She gave me my change and a big white smile. “You'll look beautiful in black with your coloring. Very elegant. The two of you make a handsome couple.” She looked at Bud, all disappointed and sad that he was mine and not hers. It wasn't every day you met a good-looking guy that read the same book.
I decided to make her day. “I'm not going with Bud. I have another date. But Bud's single and he thinks you're pretty damn hot.”
Bud looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. Brianna perked up. “Really? Is that so?”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Bud drawled out, leaning an elbow on the desk. “How about the two of us meeting for a drink sometime?”
“I'd love to. How about tonight? Six-thirty? You can pick me up here. That's when I get off work.”
Bud's mouth actually fell open. Brianna did that jaw-dropping stuff pretty well. But I liked a woman who took control. Brianna was all right. She had obviously fallen hard for Bud's southern accent. Maybe she was from southern Scandinavia.
“Maybe she'll go to the gala with you tonight, Bud. I bet she's got a dress that's suitable. Maybe we can double-date.”
“I'd love to,” Brianna agreed without hesitation. Bud looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.
Once we were done and outside I shifted the big silver dress box under my arm and fumbled for the keys to my Explorer. “Boy, you got yourself something there, big boy. You got women throwing themselves at your feet.”
“How old do you think she is?”
“She looks legal, if that's what you're worried about.”
“Man, she's a real looker. Blond, blue eyed, built.”
“Thanks for the help.”
“Hell, you picked out the first thing she showed you. You should've tried it on, I'm warnin' you. You never know about clothes until you see how it looks in the mirror.”
“I never try on anything. It'll fit. Listen, Black'll be back from New York and picking me up around eight. We'll meet you and Brianna out there. I want to snoop around the campus some while Jackass Johnstone is preening in front of the audience.”
“See you later.” Bud sauntered away, grinning and waving at Brianna, who still stood in the door watching him leave. What was it with him and women? It had to be the sexy drawl. Or the book. I wondered what Brianna would say when she found out his real name was Budweiser.
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Later that evening I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, wishing to hell I'd tried on the dress. Or at least turned it over. I shifted slightly and stared at my back. Hell, I was gypped. They forgot to sew on the back half of the dress. The front was all demure and elegant and stuff, long sleeves, soft black velvet with a high turtleneck, but turn around, baby, and I was naked down to my waist. That meant no bra and no shoulder holster. Thank goodness, Harve got me that ankle holster for Christmas. And thank goodness, Black had brought me that fringed shawl from Gay Paree.