Sterling said gently, “Flossie, my brother died years ago, you must be seeing things again. I’ll bet the banquet knocked you for a loop.” He patted her shoulder. “Come on, old girl. Buck up.”
Flossie became indignant. “No, I am not seeing things, you bozo. Of course my Harry’s been gone for years. I know that.” She pointed at the reception desk. “I’m talking about the goldfish they put in my room. I named him Harry. I’m gonna miss the little guy. That’s all. He kinda looked like your brother, you know.”
Sterling rolled his eyes and let out a guffaw. “Now that I think about it, I did call my brother ‘old fisheye’. Don’t worry, when we get home I’ll drive you over to the Fish-o-Rama on Fairfax and you can pick out a dandy goldfish.”
* * * *
When they got to SeaTac and checked their flight on the board, they discovered it was delayed for two hours. “Well, since we have time to kill,” Goldie said, “we might as well go to the snack bar and knock a few ideas around.”
They bought some cold drinks and snacks and found a table for four by the huge windows where they could watch the planes take off. “First thing I need to do is check in with Ricky. I’m guessing the Dumkovskys are in L.A. already, so something bad could happen any time.” Godiva pulled out her cell phone and looked around for a quiet corner where she could talk without being overheard.
“While you have him on the phone,” Goldie called out, “find out if he knows Captain McNab over at the Westside LAPD. He’s the husband of Belle’s friend. If Ricky knows him, maybe he can tell us if McNab’s the type of guy who will help us.”
Godiva nodded and gave her a thumbs up as she slipped off to make her call. When he answered the phone, she said, “Listen, Ricky, we’re at SeaTac and our flight is going to be late. I just wanted to check in with you to see if anything has happened. I’m pretty worried. The maid…” Her voice cracked and she took a deep breath. “…well, she died, and all she was able to say was something about a big foreign man. Those guys are really dangerous.”
She hesitated and then said, “Ricky, we think we know what they’re after, and it’s really huge.” She lowered her voice and for the next few minutes she filled him in on their theory about the Seven Stars of Siberia.
Ricky whistled. “Man, this is way bigger than I thought it was. How many stones do you think they have already?”
“We don’t know if they found the gems hidden in Mimi’s samovars, but if they did, then the only one they’re missing is Caesar’s, and that one is in Florida. I’m convinced they’ll do anything to get what they’re after.”
Ricky tried to reassure her. “Like I told you, I’ve got men covering everything. So far we haven’t seen anybody in the vicinity fitting their description.”
They discussed it a bit more and then Godiva said, “Hey Ricky, do you know an L.A. police captain named Harley McNab?”
Ricky chuckled. “Ole’ Harley? That guy’s a legend! How do you know him?”
“Actually I don’t. His wife Nellie is one of Belle’s Mad Hatter friends. Belle thought Nellie might be able to convince her husband to help us even though they haven’t committed a crime in L.A. yet. What do you think?”
After a short silence, Ricky said, “Yeah, Harley and me go way back. Remember when I rode with the Ghost Riders?”
“Isn’t that where you learned to open beer bottles with your teeth?”
“You still remember that? Didn’t know it made such an impression. Anyway, he never really joined Riders, but he had the biggest, meanest Harley you ever saw and an attitude to match. His real name is Thurston, but I don’t think anyone dared call him that. He really cleaned up his act after he married Nellie and joined the force. He’s a good cop. It wouldn’t hurt for you guys to call his wife. If we can get Harley’s help, it would be a plus.”
“Ricky, do you think there is any way the Russians could know that Caesar sent the samovar to his mother? Maybe that’s why they haven’t showed up?”
Ricky said, “I don’t think there’s any way they could know that, Godiva. They probably were delayed. We have no idea how they’re traveling. Maybe they’re avoiding airports and driving or taking the train. We’ll keep our surveillance going. If they make a move, we’re on it.”
Godiva closed her cell phone and returned to her family. Flossie leaned across the table. “Godiva, I’ve been wondering, is that the same Ricky you dated in high school? That wild boy with the noisy motorcycle?”
“Yes, Mom,” she said with a little wink, “I think he still has the hots for me.”
Flossie knitted her brow. “
Oy vey!
”
TWENTY FIVE
Godiva tucked the cell phone back into the small pocket on the side of her Italian leather shoulder bag and addressed the little group. “Ricky raised a good question. How are they traveling? Maybe they aren’t in L.A. yet because they’re driving or taking a train.”
“Well if they’re hitch hiking in those women’s clothes,” Sterling said, “they’re probably still standing on the highway in Seattle.”
Godiva laughed at the thought. “Anyway, Ricky knows Harley McNab. He says it would be a good idea to contact him. Lord knows, we need all the help we can get.”
Flossie started to say something but Goldie interrupted her. “Hold on a minute, Mom, this is important. I guess I’m the logical one to call Nellie since I’m Belle’s daughter-in-law.”
“Heaven help us,” Sterling groaned. “My nieces are at it again. Listen you two, these guys are bad news. I’ll feel a lot better if you can get the police involved. I don’t want you jumping into something you can’t wiggle out of. Instead of chasing criminals, Godiva, you should be churning out snappy answers for your column. And Goldie, why don’t you look for some more old crap for your shop? Take my advice…leave capturing killers to the professionals.”
Flossie kept clearing her throat. Finally Goldie said, “Mom, is there something wrong?”
“You bet there is. Sterling, you are such a wimp. Always running away from a little excitement. Having this McNab guy help us would be great, but shouldn’t we stay in the game, too? After all, we’re magicians and they’re nothing but
dummkopfs
, just like their name. With four minds like ours, we should be able to help Ricky, and maybe the police, get these guys.” The light of adventure was back in her eyes.
Sterling mumbled, “Stuff it, Flossie.”
Before the conversation went any further, the boarding announcement for their flight blared over the loudspeakers. Sterling took a last sip of his diet soda, Flossie wrapped the rest of her chocolate chip muffin in a napkin, shoved it in her tote, and they headed for the gate.
Two and a half hours later they joined the jostling crowd around the baggage carousel at LAX. While the ladies waited for the bags, Sterling headed for the outsize baggage area, saying a silent prayer that their disappearing box and other paraphernalia made it. By the time the normal luggage was collected, Sterling hadn’t returned. The women found him engaged in verbal combat with a disinterested baggage agent.
The crate with all the props and costumes was on the floor beside him, but the trunk containing the disappearing box was missing. They entered the office in time to hear him say, “Look here, Missy, I know the regulations. Los Angeles was not the final destination for this flight and there is half an hour left before that plane takes off again. You know what that means?”
She snapped back, “Maybe you can quote the rules to me. Sounds like this ‘disappearing box’ of yours has done what it was designed to do, so why are you makin’ such a fuss?”
That was the final straw. In a very measured tone Sterling said, “Young lady, I’ve been through this before. If baggage is missing and the city where it is missing is not the final destination and there is time left before take off, I can request a search of the cargo area to see if the missing piece is still on board. That’s the rule, line and verse. I hereby request a search!”
At that moment, two fellows who had been waiting for Sterling to finish loomed on either side of him and glared at the agent. They looked like poster boys for the Sumo Wrestling Federation. One put his arm around Sterling’s shoulder and growled, “Lady, our bags are missing, too. If Pops here is right, you better pick up that phone and make the call or you’ll be sorry.” The bigger of the two slammed their baggage checks on the counter and the agent started to tremble.
Flossie shook her fist and flashed her dentures at them. “You tell her, boys.”
Fifteen minutes later all of the missing cases magically appeared, including those of the two hulks. One of them slapped Sterling on the back with a “Thanks, Pop” that almost knocked him off his feet and they rolled their cases out.
Through all of this, the driver of the limo Godiva had hired waited patiently outside the baggage claim office. Now he and an airport Redcap pushed the trolleys laden with baggage and crates to the stretch Lincoln while they trailed behind. When Sterling looked back at the baggage clerk, she was scowling at another unhappy traveler. Parked at the curb behind the limo was a rental van with a uniformed driver. The chauffeur settled his passengers in the limo, and then helped the van driver load the crate and disappearing box.
Goldie said, “Sis, you’ve really got it made. If I was traveling by myself, I’d be schlepping all of this stuff and then standing in line for a cab.” She gave a wicked smile. “Makes me think maybe I should have married someone like Max, too.”
Godiva laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Sis. You haven’t got it in you. Besides, gold digging isn’t as easy as it sounds; living with Max was damned hard work! In a way it was a blessing he had a bad heart. I wouldn’t have gotten as much out of a divorce settlement, if it ever came to that. And besides, having Uncle Sterling as Torch’s role model was so much better than Max’s influence would have been. Instead of becoming a cold hearted wheeler-dealer, my son went into showbiz and became an award winning FX man with a heart of gold.”
Sterling smiled at Godiva. “Thanks for the pat on the back, Honey.” Then he added to Goldie, “Sweetheart, you know you would never trade marrying Red for hooking a filthy rich jerk like your sister did. Your Captain Pepper is a real
mensch
. And that’s priceless.”
Goldie smiled. “And don’t I know it?”
They pulled through the gates of Godiva’s Beverly Hills estate, and the driver’s first stop was at the cozy gardener’s cottage that Sterling now called home. Gardening was Sterling’s passion, and he took care of the grounds for Godiva with the help of three Mexican gardeners. The rose garden was his personal domain and no one touched the roses but Sterling.
Flossie got out of the car at the former guest cottage. Several years ago during a séance, Flossie swore she heard her dear Harry telling her to take a chance and change her life. So the twins’ mother sold the kitschy house that she and Harry bought for $10,000 in the late 40s to a porn movie producer for more than $500,000. Since the neighborhood, now called “The Grove District”, was becoming gentrified, the producer thought he got a bargain and Flossie figured she made a killing.
It was a good move. Flossie loved being near her daughter, grandson and brother-in-law. Godiva hired a decorator who artfully arranged the
tsochkes
and chintz to reflect the comfort of Flossie’s old house.
At the end of the driveway, Goldie and Godiva got out and trudged up the marble stairs to the massive front door. As Godiva was reaching for her key, the door swung open and Chili flew out with her cousin Torch right on her heels. They stopped short and each looking at a different twin shouted, “Mom!”
After a couple of brief hugs, Torch said, “Hey, it’s great to see you Aunt Goldie, I was sure sorry to hear about your friend’s murder. Guess you two are playing Nancy Drew again, huh?”
Godiva frowned at her son. “You make it sound so trivial, Torch. I’ll have you know this is serious business. Where are you two going?”
Chili was already halfway down the stairs. “Torch got tickets to a concert, hope you don’t mind if we take off.” Before the twins could answer, the cousins were gone.
They crossed the grand foyer and made for the comfortable family room. Goldie preferred the warmth of this charming room, decorated in English country décor. Godiva’s formal living room was so big that the whole first floor of Goldie’s house in Juneau could fit into it with space left over.
As they passed Godiva’s study, the command center of
Ask G.O.D.
, she didn’t even glance in that direction because she wasn’t up to looking at the mountain of mail yet. Angel could be counted on to have any letters worthy of publication neatly sorted and stacked in the middle of her boss’ desk.
Godiva’s maid Guadalupe took Goldie’s shabby duffel bag upstairs. Passing the blue guest room, the pink guest room and the beige guest room, she deposited the lone bag in the room she knew Goldie loved because of the antique furniture and beautiful view of the rose garden. It was done in soft yellow and was across the hall from the room Chili now called home.
Martina the cook glided into the family room carrying a tray of coffee and tea and a dish of small snacks. Goldie snuggled into the oversized suede sofa, kicked her shoes off and reached into her carpetbag purse for the ever-present yellow pad to take notes. She was starting to write when she felt a moist nose nudging her hand. A very large dog of questionable parentage was wiggling like a kid on Christmas. He was whining something that sounded like, “Wheeeere weeerre youuu?”
“Why, Waldo old guy, I missed you, too.” She stopped writing long enough to pat his fuzzy head. From the time he was a gangly puppy, Waldo the Wonder Dog helped Flossie and Sterling with the act they performed every Thursday at the Home for Hollywood Has Beens. Most of the family members agreed that Waldo could talk, but were careful not to share that fact with skeptics.
“Daaaancccce?” The dog’s tail wagged wildly.
“Sorry, fella, our waltz will have to wait. We have a real problem on our hands.” The dog’s head hung and he padded away.
“Waldo sure loves it when you pay attention to him,” Godiva said.
Her sister nodded. “Yeah, I love him too.”