Shop Till You Drop (27 page)

Yesterday, she’d been dying to examine the other CD tower. But that was before Daniel. Now she didn’t care about Juliana’s ugly secrets. All Helen could think about was Daniel, the man with the dashing black leather, the magnificent muscles, the beautiful manners.

Tonight, she had a date with the perfect man. Daniel could ask out any woman in South Florida, but he wanted to spend the evening—and the night—with Helen.

What should she wear on their first date? She mentally went through her closet, discarding one outfit after another as too old, too dowdy, too dull. Helen would have broken into her precious stash and bought something spectacular at Juliana’s except she could not wear any of the store’s midget sizes.

Helen finally decided on her black pantsuit, which always made her look slim. She had some flimsy French underwear, which she hadn’t worn since before her divorce. She wished she had time for a facial, a makeover, a complete exercise program.

That afternoon, Helen jammed the cash register, and it took Tara half an hour to fix it. Then she knocked over Tara’s soda and ruined a Chanel scarf.

“You are useless today,” Tara said. “It’s five-thirty. Why don’t you go home?”

“What if something happens while you’re here alone? Paulie will never forgive me.”

“Paulie will never know. You’re doing more damage than an army of looters,” Tara said, and pushed Helen toward the door.

Helen went. Maybe Tara wanted another chance to search the store. Helen didn’t care. She doubted Tara would stumble on the photos in the CD towers.

Helen ran all the way home. All she could think about was getting ready for her date with Daniel. She took a long steamy shower, washed her hair, painted her nails, creamed her skin, and put on the black French bra that gave her the incredible cleavage. She carefully applied her makeup. But her hands shook so badly, she smeared her dark eyeliner. Helen tried to wipe it off with a Q-tip, and wound up with black raccoon circles around her eyes.

Helen took off all her makeup and reapplied it.

The last things Helen put on were the diamond earrings Rob gave her on their wedding night. They were the only good jewelry she kept from her old life. Her engagement ring had been sold, along with her Rolex watch and the diamond pendant Rob bought her for their tenth anniversary. She threw her gold wedding band in the Mississippi when she left St. Louis.

When she finished, Helen twirled in front of the mirror and decided she didn’t look half bad. It was seven-twenty-five. Helen went outside. Peggy and Pete the parrot were out by the pool with Margery. Her landlady was wearing a tie-dyed purple shorts set and magenta suede mules.

Peggy began whistling, “Here Comes the Bride.” Margery told her to hush.

“You look lovely, dear,” Margery said. “It’s about time that boy dated a real woman. What time are you going out?”

“Seven-thirty,” Helen said. “Any minute now.”

They heard cars squeal into the parking lot and then the blare of police radios. A uniformed police officer went running to the back exit of the Coronado.

“What the heck?” Margery said, and got up.

Another uniform ran to the foot of the staircase. Two men in plain clothes and dark windbreakers that said FDLE walked purposefully up the steps to Daniel’s second-floor apartment, hands hovering above their weapons. Helen had lived here long enough to know they were the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. One knocked on the door to 2C and said, “Open up! Police!”

Both men stood back, as if they expected Daniel to blast through the door with a sawed-off shotgun.

“Daniel! He’s hurt!” Helen said.

“No,” Margery said. She held Helen’s arm tightly so she could not bolt toward Daniel’s apartment. “Stay here. Stay calm until we know what’s going on.”

Daniel’s door opened, and the two FDLE agents went inside. Helen wasn’t sure how long they were in there, but eventually they came back out with Daniel. His hands were cuffed behind him. The agents handed him over to the two police officers. Daniel looked heartbreakingly handsome in black leather.

“Daniel!” Helen cried.

“Awkk,” Pete the parrot said, and danced gleefully on Peggy’s shoulder. Helen remembered that he’d bitten Daniel.

“Shut up, bird brain,” Peggy said.

“What are you doing with that boy?” Margery demanded.

“Sorry, ma’am, he’s under arrest,” one police officer said. “He’s being charged with theft by deception.”

“There must be some mistake,” Helen said.

“No, ma’am. No mistake. He’s being arrested for cheating widows and poor people.”

“He’s innocent. Daniel, let me go with you,” Helen said.

“No! Stay here and call my lawyer,” Daniel said. “His name is Steinway, on Oakland Park.”

“Oh, shit,” Margery said.

“Steinway,” Daniel repeated. “Like the piano. Tell him they’re booking me at the Broward County Jail. Don’t come down there, Helen, please.”

“Come on,” the police officers said. Doors slammed, tires squealed, and Daniel was gone. The last thing Helen noticed was how dumpy the police officers looked next to the superbly muscled Daniel.

 

Helen remembered that night in flashes. The FDLE agents had a search warrant for Daniel’s apartment. They left hours later, carrying out box after box.

Peggy called Steinway the lawyer.

Margery took Helen back to her own place and installed her in the purple recliner, wrapped in a blanket. Helen started shivering uncontrollably, and Margery made her hot chocolate and chicken soup. Helen took a sip of each.

“There must be some mistake,” she kept repeating.

“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding,” Peggy soothed. But Margery stayed silent, and Helen noticed.

“Why did you say what you did when Daniel yelled out that lawyer’s name?” Helen asked her landlady.

“Do you really want to know?” Margery asked.

“Yes. No matter how bad it is, I want to know.”

“Steinway represents every successful crook in town. Retain him and you might as well announce you’re guilty. Except Steinway has a remarkable record for helping the guilty go free.”

“Oh, shit,” Helen said.

“I could be wrong,” Margery said.

“I feel like such a fool,” Helen said. “What if Daniel really did cheat widows and poor people? That’s disgusting.” Then the tears started, and she couldn’t stop them. “God punished me for wanting to hop into bed with a man I barely knew.”

“Rubbish,” Margery said. “Do you think God runs a dating service? She has more important things to do.”

“You’re right,” Helen said. “I sound like my mother.”

“God forbid,” Margery said.

Helen laughed, then blew her nose. “I wish the cops could have arrested him tomorrow night,” she said, and all three women laughed until their sides ached as much as Helen’s heart.

Peggy and Margery walked Helen back to her room and helped her undress. She was fine, until she stripped off her top and saw that incredible cantilevered bra. Then Helen started crying again. Margery wrapped her in a robe and rocked her like a child.

“Maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity,” Helen said, sniffling.

“Maybe we’ll know more when we read tomorrow’s paper,” Peggy said.

 

Helen thought she’d never fall asleep, but she did, almost immediately. It was a restless, phantom-ridden sleep, haunted by old sorrows. She knew she’d been a fool, and her dreams told her so, until she didn’t want to hear it anymore. But she could not escape. She slept on. Only when Helen heard the doors of the newspaper delivery van slam shut at five-ten the next morning did she awake.

Helen rummaged in her purse for change to buy a paper. She had to know what Daniel had done. “He cheated widows and poor people,” the police said. But how? She thought guiltily of her ride on Daniel’s brand-new Harley. Where did he get the money for that?

When Helen opened her door, Margery was stepping outside. She was wearing her purple chenille robe and red sponge curlers.

“Going for a paper?” she whispered.

Helen nodded.

“I’ll go with you,” Margery said.

Helen bought the paper but did not open it. They walked back to Margery’s. Her landlady poured coffee for them both, then put on her reading glasses. They were ready for the worst. The story was on page 2B: “Police Arrest Man Accused of Fire Safety Scam.”

Margery read the story outloud, “Daniel Dayson, 42—”

“He’s my age?” Helen said. “I thought he was younger.”

“Me, too,” Margery said. She cleared her throat and started reading again from the top:

“Daniel Dayson, 42, has been charged with cheating at least thirty Florida restaurants and food-related businesses with a fire-equipment repair scam.

“Anne Watts, spokeswoman for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, said Dayson allegedly bilked restaurant owners of more than sixty thousand dollars. The FDLE spokeswoman said Dayson would ‘go into restaurants, show false ID, and claim to be from the fire marshal’s office. Dayson would say he was there to inspect the restaurant’s kitchen hood systems and portable fire extinguishers.’ ”

“The uniform,” Helen said. “Daniel wore that tailored blue uniform with the official-looking red patches.”

Margery adjusted her glasses and started reading again.

“Dayson would claim that the restaurant’s equipment was not working properly and was in violation of the fire code. ‘It was quite a scam,’ Watts said. ‘Apparently, Dayson would tell the restaurants they would have to shut down until the equipment was fixed. This could cost them thousands of dollars in lost business while they contracted with repair people or ordered the proper equipment. Dayson would offer to fix the equipment himself, for cash. Grateful restaurant owners would give Dayson several thousand dollars in cash for repairs that they did not need. Needless to say, he fixed nothing.’

“FDLE investigators said Dayson was also wanted in Georgia, Alabama, and Texas for the same scam. ‘The investigation is ongoing,’ Watts said. ‘Anyone with information on this case should call . . .’ ”

Margery threw the paper down. “I can’t believe I made fudge for him,” she said.

I can’t believe I wanted to go to bed with him, Helen thought.

She picked up the paper and looked at Daniel’s mug shot. Some people look guilty in mug shots. Others look angry, evil, or bleary-eyed. But Daniel looked surprised. Perhaps he thought he could charm his way out of this, too. Even in the harsh light, he was handsome.

At seven a.m., Peggy arrived without Pete to discuss the Daniel disaster. Helen thought she looked naked with no parrot on her shoulder.

At eight, Cal pounded on Margery’s door. “Turn on the TV if you ladies want to see your boyfriend,” he said. “I always knew he was a crook.”

Margery slammed the door on Cal’s gloating face, but she flipped on the TV. The women did not see Daniel, but his victims. A Hispanic couple was telling a reporter in halting English that they gave Daniel three thousand dollars for phony repairs to their Hialeah restaurant.

“He had a badge and official papers. He wore a uniform,” the husband said. “We were afraid he would close us down.”

“It is all our savings,” the wife wept.

The other interview was a seventy-year-old Davie widow who ran a doughnut shop.

“He came in here wearing a blue uniform with patches on it. How was I supposed to know?” the widow said, her chin trembling. “Now they tell me that Broward County fire marshals wear a different uniform. Well, it’s too darn late. I lost fifteen hundred dollars. He never even did the repairs.”

“Imagine picking on an old lady,” Margery said. Her red sponge curlers bobbed with indignation.

No one had the nerve to say the “old lady” was younger than Margery.

“Well, he’s a first-class con man,” Margery said. “He fooled me.”

“And me,” Peggy said. “And all those poor people.”

And me, Helen thought. “I think I’ll get dressed for work,” she said, and went sadly back to her apartment.

Handsome is as handsome does, Helen’s grandmother used to say. There was something small and mean and ugly about Daniel’s choice of victims. He went after the old and the poor, after people who did not speak English well, after people who were afraid of official papers.

How could I find a man like that attractive? Helen thought. What’s wrong with me? I’ve made one bad choice after another: first Rob, then Cal, now Daniel.

What had Margery said? Single men in South Florida were all “drunks, druggies, and deadbeats.” Except for Daniel, a petty crook who preyed on the old and the helpless.

No wonder Peggy was through with men forever. Peggy would rather play the Florida Lotto, where her chances of winning were one in twenty-three million. Peggy believed those were better odds than the dating game, where she saw no chance at all.

Helen opened her purse, took out the box of condoms, and tossed them in the trash. She wasn’t ever going to get lucky.