The Immaculate Deception Page 3

  Daddy’s eight-sided Dracula coffin was in there. Not that he was a vampire but his family had weird burial rituals. He came from a poor Irish-American family that was among the first settlers in Sacramento, California, during the gold rush. They were known to pack a pistol while standing guard with their loved one to prevent an autopsy, the body was never to be left alone, someone had to stay inside the open grave all night, an Irish wake thrown at the house…things like that.

  The back of the closet was stuffed with boxes full of Daddy’s old medical files and research papers. Neatly lining the walnut-paneled closet walls were two dozen plastic grocery bags filled with used novels. Momma read when she couldn’t sleep. She’d told me she liked books with a little mystery, a little danger and a little sex. So here was the New York Times bestseller list for the past few years. She preferred the thick ones. Daddy always whispered it was an obsessive-compulsive disorder, Momma reading so much.

  There was one bag stuffed with photo albums. I rooted out the white one. Beautiful sepia prints were displayed in little gold corner mounts on heavy black paper. Momma in a bathing suit, on the beach, with palm trees. Must’ve been in the forties sometime. In one, she was cuddled up to a very handsome bearded man. Definitely not Daddy. In another, she wore a full-length fur. I remembered that fur. She always kept it in the big black steamer trunk that I was leaning on. I eased off it, undid the latches and opened the lid. There it was, along with the aroma of mothballs. I slipped the full-length sable on and drew it tight.

  The melody became louder. I crept back and peeked around the corner under the basement stairs. I moved some boxes. Blackness swirled. Wind whipped. The music had laughter. I felt an irresistible forward force propelling me deeper.

  ~♥~

  I blinked. Sparkles. Rainbow-colored sparkles dazzled my eyes. People danced cheek to cheek. Lots of soldiers in old-fashioned uniform. The women were wearing white gloves and fancy hats. I found the exit and escaped outside into the night.

  A chilling wind stung my cheeks. Something was very not right. The cars were all jalopies. Really old ones, older than the ones at the classic car nights at the fast food restaurant I always went to. The kind of cars you had to turn a big crank on the front to start. I proceeded along. Passing a newsstand, I picked up a paper. The headline read President Roosevelt’s New Strategy For the Philippines. The date was February 16, 1945. I dropped it and ran. All right, this was spooky. Where the hell was I?

  Freezing rain pummeled my face. I stumbled in a grate, breaking a heel off my blue stiletto shoe. Blue stiletto shoe? What happened to my hospital slippers? I must be dreaming. Midway across the Fourteenth Street Bridge, gateway back to Virginia, I stopped. I leaned over the concrete railing and gasped for breath. I stuck my right hand into the deep silk-lined coat pocket and extracted a pearl-handled pistol. I screamed and dropped it over the rail. I watched it slide on the surface of the frozen Potomac River.

  Frozen river? This was July! I stuck my hand into the left pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. An icicle fell from the lamppost above me. I examined the note in my hand. Benjamin Franklin’s portrait adorned both sides. It was bloody. I felt a tap on my right shoulder. It didn’t hurt.

  I turned…and saw a man.

  Chapter Two

  At that very instant, I felt a force field enveloping me. The best way I can describe it would be a tingling sensation with a mix of adrenaline, endorphins, laughter, inebriation and orgasm. It started at the top of my head and then split down both sides, wrapping my body in a glorious package. What was going on? I didn’t even believe in destiny. So how come I was so sure something wonderful was about to happen? I smiled. I smiled so hard my face hurt. I couldn’t help it. I felt like a sublime dumbstruck ingénue.

  His grin answered mine, radiating a sense of total approval. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t concerned about my physical shortcomings. I sized him up. He was wearing a gray overcoat, matching fedora, nice trousers and shoes. The man was holding a paper sack and was looking at me looking him over. He eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering in all the usual spots. It had been so long since anyone had leered at me. And his grin just grew larger. He seemed to genuinely like what he saw. And so did I.

  Finally the stranger spoke, in a low gentle voice, with a hint of an English accent.

  “Hello, Cinderella. Do you know me?”

  “Should I? I mean…I feel like I’ve dreamed you into life.” I sighed.

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you know me?” I asked, searching his face, not knowing whether to hope he did or hope he didn’t.

  “Of course.”

  I stuttered, “Who are you?”

  In the sweetest, knowingest voice I’d ever heard, he said, “I’m an angel. Your mate. Your soul mate across history.”

  He took my hand into his and kissed it. I thought I was going to swoon. I felt like I’d yearned for this moment all my life. I didn’t know what to expect but he was so much more than I expected. I was overwhelmed. Wait. This guy must be a nut. What exactly did he mean he was my soul mate across history? That was the most preposterous come-on line I’d ever heard. My mate? Did he mean in a sexual way? Well, not that I minded. He was very hot. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted to believe him. An angel. My mate…across history. Did that mean I was born into the wrong generation? Was that why I was so different from the rest of my family? I felt a very strong connection coming from him. A warm and fuzzy feeling that rubbed me in just the right places.

  He stuck his hand inside of the paper bag and pulled out a hamburger. “Hungry, Donna?”

  “Yes.” I grabbed the burger, removed the patty from the bun and gobbled just the meat.

  “Here, have another.” He handed me a second small hot burger and snatched the empty buns from me. Tearing them into tiny pieces, he lined the bread on the bridge railing. He plucked a third burger from the bag and joined me in snacking.

  “What are you doing out on such a treacherous night, Cinderella?”

  I thought about it for a while. I remembered trying on Momma’s fur coat and looking at her pictures. I wondered where she was. I had been waiting for her at her house. Perry had said that he had locked her up in a mental hospital and that she had escaped and killed Daddy. Damn him. Poor Momma. I had to find her. “I’m looking for my mother, Mrs. Payne.” Wait, silly. I’m dreaming in 1945. “Um, maybe you know her by Chloe Lambert?”

  “Right. Girl Secret Service agent. Works over at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.”

  This was getting really weird. Maybe I’d lost my mind, maybe I’d fractured my skull during the accident. I had to be dreaming. But in my dream, I could actually taste the ketchup. Grease was dripping down the side of my face. What a burger! This guy was still staring at me. He was so cute. My stomach started fluttering. What color hair would he have under that hat?

  He interrupted my thoughts. “So would you like me to accompany you?”

  “Sure, why not. Where’re we off to?”

  “I thought you’re looking for your mum?”

  A pair of fat ravens landed on the railing and pecked at the bread. I began shivering. Snowflakes dropped down in big swirls. They spun around in the glow of the gas lamps.

  “Button up your frock, love. You shouldn’t be gadding about…um, nude…in this kind of weather.”

  “Nude?” I felt the snow melting on my tummy. Oh my gosh, I’m not wearing anything under this fur coat! My numb fingers fought to shove the silk buttons through the loops. Great, just great. Now he’s seen the finer parts of my anatomy, all bandaged and bruised. Wait a minute, where is the new dressing I taped on the wound? I began rubbing my shoulder and chest.

  He said, “Need any help?”

  I looked at him. “What?” I had smooth, completely healed skin. No scar. I buttoned the top button.

  He winked and threw the hamburger wrappers and sack in a wire trash bin. He playfully tipped the brim of his fedora and of
fered me his arm. I entwined mine and we began walking, back toward Washington. Wait a minute. I stopped. I was stumble-galloping.

  “How’d you lose a heel?” he asked me.

  “Don’t know.” I turned around and saw the heel sticking out of the grate in the sidewalk. “I guess it broke off.”

  “Well, we’ll not get far like this.”

  Before I could process the situation, he hoisted me off the ground and over his shoulder. My hair flopped down. All I could see was his backside and the cobblestone sidewalk.

  “Hey, what’s with the caveman carry?” I asked. The blood rushing to my head felt kind of nice. I got a little high.

  My mate laughed in a low deep voice. “Fireman’s carry, love.”

  “Oh.” I burped. And blushed. What am I doing embarrassing myself in my own darned dream? Leave it to me.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything, I just belched.”

  “Oh.” He started patting my rear end.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, I thought you needed to be burped.” He laughed.

  So did I. This apparition was a fun boy. The blood rushed out of my arms. I was hanging on to the hem of his overcoat. Felt itchy, like wool. I flailed my right arm up and swatted his fedora off.

  “Hey, what did you go and do that for?” He stopped and set me down.

  I brushed the hair from my face. “You’re a blond.” I smiled.

  “And so are you.”

  “I like your flat-top haircut.”

  “I like your curly-top haircut.”

  “Well, then it’s settled. We are blond soul mates through history. Come on. Let’s go and find my mother.”

  The wind picked up. And dream boy picked me back up. This guy was strong. Couldn’t wait to see his muscles. Nah, with my luck, I’d wake up before I could even get a kiss in the dark.

  My mate walked. He set me down again. I fixed up my hair and squinted around. Washington loomed dark under a heavy cloud cover.

  He said, “This is it. The United States Bureau of Engraving and Printing.”

  “Sounds boring. What do they do in there? Print up invitations to Internal Revenue Service parties or something?”

  “Nah, nothing that exciting. They just print new United States currency in there.”

  “Currency? You mean dollars?”

  He nodded affirmatively.

  “Sweet. Well, thanks, let’s go in and get my mother.”

  “It’s oh–one hundred hours. She doesn’t work in the middle of the night.”

  I noticed a light approaching from the center of the street. It grew brighter. I listened to the squeal of the brakes. My apparition boy had unbuttoned his overcoat. He fumbled in his left front trouser pocket.

  “Need any help?” I grinned.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Some other time, love. I’m just fishing for these.” He produced two round wooden objects. “Streetcar tokens.”

  “But they paved over the tracks decades ago…”

  “What?” he asked.

  Why would a streetcar be running after midnight? Better not scare this hunk away with boring questions. “Oh nothing.”

  He helped me up the steps. I plopped down on the hard wooden bench right behind the driver. My mate settled next to me and slipped his arm around my shoulders. He smelled so good. Very manly, like he’d just showered with a strong refreshing deodorant soap. I leaned my head on his shoulder and cuddled right up. I was so tired.

  ~*~

  Great. Now I heard the “Donna” song, my nickname song, resonating through the trolley car. I covered my ears. I didn’t want this extraordinarily dreamy man to hear it. If he would call me anything, then not “Oh-Donna”. A loud wooden thump woke me. I reluctantly opened my eyes. Darn it, I saw the lone light bulb with the brown shoestring pull. My dream was over. I let out a big disappointed sigh. Didn’t get to kiss him. I was back in the real world and my reality sucked. I heard voices out in the rec room. It sounded like Spanish. Spanish…and…Tammy. Just great. I sat up. “Owww!” My pain rushed back with fury.

  The closet door flew open. My sister asked, “What’re you doing…lurking back in there? Perry said you found the body. What, did ya spend the night in the closet? You’re so freaky, Oh-Donna.”

  “Nice to see you again too, Sis.”

  I looked at her. Tammy was about ninety-five pounds of tawny-complected toned muscle, makeup and satiny jet-black hair. Implants and Botox in just the right places. She really was gorgeous…on the outside.

  “What time is it? And what day is it?”

  Tammy screwed her little forehead up and said, “It’s after five p.m. on Tuesday. You look like crap. What happened to your face? Cut yourself shaving? Isn’t that Mom’s blouse? And what’s with the pants? Retro orderly? Ya look like a bag lady, Oh-Donna.”

  I plodded past her into the rec room. Two men were occupied setting up the Dracula box. Daddy’s coffin. Daddy’s dead body was in there. Heat rose from my feet, up my legs, through my torso and into my face. Oh no. I knew this sensation. The room commenced spinning. My stomach went along for the ride. Shouldn’t have had those hamburgers. Wait a minute, that was just a dream. I didn’t have anything in my stomach to throw up. I tried swallowing it down. I was so hot. Everything around me was swirling and then everything went dark.

  I came to, with cold water dripping off my face where Tammy had evidently thrown it. She hovered over me with a tea-stained floral plastic tumbler.

  I wiped my palm across my face. “Why didn’t you just shove my head in the toilet?”

  “Get up, Oh-Donna. Why’d you faint? You always were the little sissy-girl. I know you can’t be pregnant.” She shot a look toward the Latino men as if to humiliate me. “You need to vacuum upstairs and dust before the food gets here.”

  I sat up, trying to sling water droplets at Tammy. “I can’t believe you’re having an Irish wake… And what’s Daddy doing here? Did they finish embalming him that quick?”

  “Embalming costs money.”

  I was so confused. “But-but didn’t the coroner order an autopsy?”

  “He was old, it was his time to go.”

  “But-but Perry made accusations about foul play. He said the police were coming to process the scene. Did they? If so, the coroner would perform a postmortem exam and prove Perry wrong. Was Daddy autopsied?”

  “I don’t know anything about a police investigation. I haven’t seen or talked to any cops. And you know good and well that we Paynes do not believe in autopsies.”

  If no autopsy had been performed and the body had been released to the family, then quite obviously the authorities thought he died of natural causes.

  “Then you agree there was no crime. Daddy just had a heart attack.”

  “Whatever. He’s dead.”

  I lurched up, gritting my teeth on the pain. The men were gone. I shuddered and turned my back to the coffin. Tammy sashayed over to it. I hated that thing. It basically terrified me. I heard a creaky squeak as she opened the lid.

  “Look at what a good job I did on his makeup.”

  “No!” I bolted upstairs.

  My sister chased me, laughing.

  Tammy said, “I’m sorry, hon. I know you were his favorite.”

  I was his favorite? Excuse me, but you are the one he gushed over, going on and on about all of your great achievements, how you did so and so’s makeup in the blockbuster movie du jour. And then after you switched careers, he’d gossip about Senator so and so’s abs you six-packed.

  Tammy said, “The viewing is from seven until nine. You need to get the place spiffed up before the mourners arrive. And change your clothes, huh?”

  “But-but the attendants left. They can’t legally leave the body.”

  The doorbell rang. Tammy sailed down the three red-carpeted steps to the landing. She turned to me and said, “Of course not. Those were plumbers working on Mrs. Meddlestein’s place. I had them set up the Dracula box for me. Da
ddy’s not actually inside but the mourners won’t know. It’ll save us money. Let me and Perry know how the viewing went.”

  Tammy opened the front door. A fast food deliveryman from Kentucky Fried Chicken gripped a large cardboard box. He had an orange turban, a long gray beard with a handlebar moustache and black basset hound eyes.

  Tammy told him, “Take the food downstairs. The lady up over there will pay you.” Then she wiggled past him.

  Grinning with bright yellow jumbled teeth, he turned his head and leered at my sister.

  All right, that’s enough. I stumbled down the steps and grabbed a large side of mashed potatoes from the box. I lobbed it at Tammy. Whoo hoo! Potatoed her right in her pretty black ponytail. She screamed. Who was the sissy-girl now?

  I shoved back inside and slammed the door in the poor delivery guy’s face. Okay, that wasn’t nice. I reached back through the wrought iron railing and felt around inside my orange plastic hospital goody bag. I fished out a five. I opened the door and handed it to the guy. “Sorry, but I didn’t order this food. Here’s for your trouble.”

  He insisted, “You must pay!”

  “Take it up with Mrs. Potato Head.”

  I shut the door and locked it. I slumped down on the slate landing. My anger gave way to a tirade of tears. Daddy, oh Daddy… I love you. Why now? Why did you do this to me? I know you didn’t love me the way you loved Perry and Tammy. But that’s okay. I still loved you. I tried to come and referee the fight you had with Momma on Thursday. But I was in an accident and I couldn’t get to you any sooner than I did. I don’t even know what really happened. Did Momma really turn that deep freezer over on you? Is that what killed you or was it your heart? Momma wouldn’t do that, would she? Where is Momma? Oh Momma, come and hug me and make it all better. Momma, please Momma?

  The doorbell forced me to my knees. I peeked through the waist-high peephole. Daddy had drilled it for me when we moved in, so I could see through it. I was about five or six years old at the time and frequently left home alone. Perry was a teenager, off on his own fun. Tammy had a special babysitter she went to, called Mommy Kay.