“We have to find Laredo’s disk. It’s important. Hank hasn’t found it yet, or he wouldn’t have trashed your place, my place, and Debbie’s apartment. Where did your sister hide things?”
“In her shoes,” Savannah said. “She used to keep rolledup money in the toes of her high heels. But all her shoes and clothes are gone.”
“She couldn’t hide a computer disk in a high heel. It would be too easy to see.”
Savannah sipped her coffee and thought for a minute.
“When we were little, she used to hide stuff in her mattress.
She’d cut a hole in the side and slide it in. When she was thirteen, she stashed her diary in there. I found it and read all about her adventures in Jeremy Ames’ red pickup. I gave that boy what-for and he never came around again. After our trailer got trashed, that’s the first place I looked. Nothing.”
“Any other favorite places?” Helen said.
“Her car. Under the floor mat and in the trunk under the spare. But her car is gone, too. There’s nowhere else I—-”
Helen looked up and nearly dropped her coffee. Fred and Ethel had walked in.
“Oh, God,” she whispered and ducked down in the booth.
“What the matter?” Savannah said.
“It’s the awful couple in 2C. I don’t want them to see me.
They’ll invite themselves to sit with us and never leave.
They’re so boring they make my socks roll down.”
Savannah peeked over the dusty ferns. “She the gray-haired lady wearing the WORLD’S BEST GRANDMA T- shirt?
And he’s the guy with a gut? His shirt says, SORRY YOUR GOD IS DEAD—MINE’S ALIVE AND WELL.”
Helen groaned. “It’s Fred and Ethel, all right.”
“You’re safe,” Savannah said. “They can’t see you behind the planter.”
But Helen could hear them. Their voices were so loud, she felt like they were sitting in her booth. She wanted to flee, but she couldn’t leave while they were there.
They both ordered tuna-melt specials in booming voices.
“We don’t like bread pudding,” Ethel said. “Can we have rice pudding, instead?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the waitress said. “No substitutions.”
“Can you take fifty cents off the price?” Ethel said.
“Nope. Can’t do that, either.”
“Some people are so cheap,” Helen whispered. “Can you believe that?”
“They do throw pennies around like manhole covers.” Savannah took another peek over the booth top. “But they’ve got their food already and they’re really chowing down. It won’t be long before they’re gone. I’ll get us more coffee.
Just relax. It will be over soon.”
“That’s what my dentist says.”
There was a fearful scream.
“Good lord,” Savannah said. She looked over the fern barricade. “It’s Ethel. Blood is gushing from her mouth.”
Helen poked her head up through the ferns. “Do you think her tuna bit her?”
Ethel was moaning and holding her jaw. Blood dripped through her fingers and onto her T-shirt.
The waitress came running over. “What’s the matter, ma’am? Are you hurt?”
“This piece of metal was in my tuna melt,” Ethel said. “I bit right into it. I’m cut bad.”
“I’m taking my wife to the emergency room,” Fred said.
“What’s your manager’s name?”
“Mr. Wilson,” the waitress said. “He’s in back. I’ll get him.”
Fred helped Ethel up and put his arm around her. She was dabbing at her face with a napkin, smearing the blood around.
The manager came running over. He saw bloody Ethel and turned the color of yesterday’s oatmeal.
“My wife hurt herself on a piece of metal in your food, Fred said. “Look how she’s bleeding. I’m not a suing kind of man. But she needs to be stitched up and I got a four-hundred-dollar deductible for my emergency room insurance.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager said, wringing his hands like an old dishrag. “If you’ll bring your receipt from the ER, we’ll be happy to pay the deductible.”
“In cash?” Fred said.
“Absolutely,” the manager said. “Here’s my card. Just call and we’ll settle up. I hope your wife will be OK. We’re so sorry. Next time, your dinner is on us.”
Ethel was still holding the bloody napkin to her mouth and dripping dramatically. Helen saw she developed a limp as Fred helped her out to the car. Strange. That metal had been nowhere near her foot.
“There’s something funny going on,” Helen said. “Let’s see if they really go to the emergency room.”
Savannah threw down some bills and they ran to the Tank.
Fred and Ethel didn’t notice the lurching, smoke-belching car. They went nowhere near a hospital. Instead, they drove straight to the Coronado. When Ethel got out of the car, there was no blood on her face. She was smiling. A blue windbreaker hid her bloodstained shirt.
“I knew it,” Helen said. “She faked that injury.”
They drove past, so Fred and Ethel wouldn’t see they were being followed. A half an hour later, Savannah dropped Helen at the Coronado. The sunset had painted the sky a glorious rose-pink. Wild parrots settled into the rustling palms.
The soft evening breeze was scented with chlorine and Coppertone.
This was Helen’s favorite time of day. A few months ago, she would have been sitting by the pool, toasting the sunset with white wine. Margery and Peggy would have been relaxing on chaise longues, Pete patrolling Peggy’s shoulder while she discussed her latest lottery scheme. Margery would snort and smoke and ignore Pete’s squawks. They would all be laughing.
Now Peggy and Pete sulked inside. Margery was barricaded in her home.
Their poolside evenings had been hijacked by Cal, Fred and Ethel. The couple claimed to be teetotalers. Helen thought they were drunk with disapproval.
Florida was warm and accepting, more interested in committing sin than condemning it. Fred and Ethel’s moral superiority had soured too many evenings. Ha. They were nothing but small-time scam artists.
Helen banged on Margery’s door until the jalousie glass rattled. Helen knew her landlady was home. Her car was in the lot.
“Margery, it’s me,” Helen said.
The door finally opened. Swirls of cigarette smoke poured out. Helen choked.
“Quiet. I’m avoiding the pool party,” Margery said.
“They’ve already complained twice. Fred said the chlorine was too strong in the pool. Ethel saw a palmetto bug.”
“Only one?” Helen said.
Even in the darkened kitchen, Helen could see Margery was a mess. Her purple shorts were wrinkled. Her red lipstick had crawled up into the cracks in her lips and her nail polish was chipped. She was drinking a screwdriver that didn’t even have a full shot of orange juice.
“You need your vitamin C,” Helen said, heading for the fridge. She poured a hefty jolt of juice into Margery’s half-empty glass of booze. Then she opened the blinds.
“Let in some light. We need to celebrate. We’re getting the fun couple out of here. I caught Fred and Ethel in a big fat fraud.”
Helen gave Margery the details. She could see her landlady perk up with every sentence. By the time Helen finished, Margery looked ten years younger. The wrinkles were even gone from her shorts.
“Are you working tonight?” Margery said. “No? Good.
It’s the Mertzes’ bingo night. They leave about six thirty.
We’ll wait until they’re gone and check out their place. I have a passkey.”
