2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office (22 page)

Being Sleepy Beauty isn't all it's cracked up to be, even at a Renaissance Fair. I left my condo wearing a swirl of blue satin and tulle, my long blonde hair flat ironed into fairy princess spun gold, and Rick's appreciative whistle in my ears. I knew I should've walked, but it was a good mile from my condo, and I didn't want to walk home at night lugging my guitar the whole way.

It took twenty minutes to land a parking space and another five to realize I had forgotten to bring quarters. A group of young guys, already a dozen beers into celebrating, offered me some change. They couldn't stop joking about "rescuing a damsel in distress." Then on the long walk down to the docks, I was stopped by a variety of knights, knaves, and peasants all, it seemed, with the sole purpose of landing a fairy princess for the night.

I stopped to catch my breath one block from the main stage at Dock Street. I checked the time. Ten minutes to show time. I went on around the middle of the show, so I still had an hour. A flash of red off to my left caught my eye. A woman dressed in a stunning black and red satin gown with a low cut bodice showing ample cleavage was drawing quite a few admirers. I watched as she gave one guy the finger and seemed to threaten another with something under her skirt. Which really didn't help her situation much.

I felt her pain. It wasn't easy being a princess around here.

I carted my guitar across the busy intersection amid catcalls and lewd comments. I promised myself a stiff drink once I checked in with the show organizers. The stage area in front of the docks was teaming with people: some dressed in medieval garb and some as tourists. The first act was starting when I finally tracked down the harried producer. I also let her know that I would be performing with two acts entered in the talent show tomorrow. She checked her iPad to confirm their registrations; sure enough Mr. Pyres and Carlos and The Brethren Band were on the list.

I watched the first performance from the side stage while tuning my guitar. A flash of red caught my eye in the crowd. The woman I'd seen on the street was now moving through the audience. She seemed to be looking for someone.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Rick:
Having a beer at McGlynn's with Granddaddy. Be there in fifteen minutes.

Me:
On my way. Order me a martini.

McGlynn's was back the way I'd come, and two blocks over. But it was worth the walk if I had a drink waiting for me. No telling how long it'd take me to get served at one of the bars near the stage. Even dressed as Sleeping Beauty.

After a hot and hurried walk, I breathed a thankful sigh at the dark, cool interior of McGlynn's. The tulle and satin was already starting to get itchy.

"Lady Di in the house," Woody called from behind the bar. "Or should I say Princess Di?"

Woody had been the bartender at McGlynn's for as long as I'd been playing the bar scene in Annapolis. He made sure I always had regular gigs there and kept the drunks from harassing me during my sets. He was easy-going but didn't like to be reminded about his namesake from
Cheers
.

"My favorite character was Norm," I heard Granddaddy say as I approached.

I groaned inwardly and gave Woody a wave. "Long time no see," I called back.

"I hear you made the big-time in Puerto Rico. Does this mean you're too famous to play at McGlynn's?" he joked.

"Never!" I cried as I took a sip of the perfectly prepared martini sitting in front of the empty barstool between Rick and Granddaddy.

I gave Granddaddy a hug and asked Rick about Uncle Grover's whereabouts.

"His date with Mrs. Kester was going well, so he didn't want to leave," Rick replied, taking a sip of his beer. "They're having tea at her place." He grinned.

Unbelievable. She must have put a love spell on poor Uncle Grover.

"I wouldn't touch that old bat with a ten foot pole if'n ya paid me," Granddaddy announced. "Fool's gonna ketch a bad case of the uglies." Granddaddy shivered.

I agreed but kept quiet. I needed to have a private talk with Uncle Grover.

"How's it going for you so far?" Rick asked.

I shrugged. "Being a fairy princess attracts a lot of frogs. Especially at intersections."

Rick nodded. "I can see that."

I turned to Rick. "I want to thank you for helping out with The Grands. I do appreciate it."

"No problem. They're good people, even if they're a handful."

I took another sip of my drink and thought about how Rick was here—dependable, stable, supportive—and Mark was somewhere "tying up lose ends" with the CIA and Marsha. For a moment I wished I could love Rick again. The way I did when I was a teenager. I was physically attracted to him. No doubt about that, I thought, glancing over at his thick, dark hair and strong, work-hardened hands. I just didn't feel the butterflies or that warm mushy feeling I felt with Mark.

I sighed and sipped the last drop from my glass. "Time to get to work," I announced.

Granddaddy was launching into another discussion on
Cheers
with Woody. I tapped his shoulder and indicated the door.

He waved a hand at me. "Okeydokey, don't get yer skirts in a bunch."

Woody gave me a grateful look.

Before we left, I confirmed a day next week to do a few sets with Carlos. I left out the whole pirate thing, not sure how Woody felt about pirates. I didn't want a repeat of the night before.

*  *  *

I finished my set without a hitch. The audience loved my rendition of "Scarborough Fair." It was fun to play soft ballads dressed as a princess, but I wouldn't want to do it for a living. As I walked off the stage, I searched the audience for Rick and Granddaddy. It was dusk, and the stage lights made it difficult to see.

A whistle that I recognized from childhood caught my attention to the left of the stage. Granddaddy took his fingers out of his mouth and waved.

"Great performance," Rick said, leaning in for a hug.

I accepted his hug, but tried to duck the gentle brush of his cheek against mine.

"Perfection!" cried Granddaddy. "Now I got to go water the flowers."

We all looked around at the sea of people wandering about in all directions and at the dozens lined up in front of the port-a-potties.

This didn't look good. "Maybe we could head back to McGlynn's," I suggested.

"Nope, ain't gonna make it," he said matter-of-factly.

"Couldn't he just go off the docks somewhere?" Rick asked.

The docks! Perfect! "I know just the place. Follow me." I had forgotten about Ed's yacht being docked directly behind us. I knew where Mark kept the spare key, and there was a full-size bathroom on board.

We left the noise and chaos behind as we made our way down the boat slips. Ed's elegant, lovingly restored yacht was dark and silent as we climbed aboard. Granddaddy was dancing about impatiently as I pulled the key from under the potted plant and opened the door.

I led the way down the spiral staircase into the living area and switched on a light.

"Wow," Rick said, "this is what I call a boat. I can see why you put up with Mark."

I gave him an evil look and started to tell him exactly what he could do with his comment.

"Never mind all that," Granddaddy interrupted. "Where's the dad-burned bathroom on this tug?"

I pointed to the next room. Rick walked around admiring the furniture. He flipped on the light in the bedroom.

"Nice bed," he said wryly.

"I wouldn't know," I replied primly.

"Uh-huh."

"Don't go digging around in there," I chastised, coming up behind him.

And then I saw it. A black suitcase beside the bed.

"That Mark's?" Rick asked, pointing at the suitcase.

"I don't think so."

Rick walked over and picked up the case. "It's not locked." He clicked open the latches.

"Stop," I said, although I really wanted to see what was inside. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Rick gave me a look. "Suit yourself," he said and made a move to close the locks.

I jumped in front of him and threw back the top of the case. I gasped. It was full of women's clothing.

"I don't suppose Mark's a cross-dresser?" Rick asked.

"Well, that there explains this!" cried Granddaddy, coming out of the bathroom holding a flat iron and a clear bag containing cosmetics. "I knew that Mark feller was shifty. Never trust a man that smells that good."

I looked over at Granddaddy like he'd finally lost his mind. "Why you lookin' at me like that? The man smells better 'n anyone should. Like fresh jerky and beer," he added.

"He's right! But I thought he smelled like pine trees," added Rick.

"You're both crazy! Why would he have these things?" I asked.

"Looks to me like a woman is staying here," Rick said.

"Well, no-duh," I snapped, sounding a lot like Tabitha. "But why?"

"I'd say he has a girlfriend," Rick replied a little too smugly. "A hot one at that," he added, pulling out a lacy bra with generous cups.

I smacked his hand. "Stop that! I'm not jumping to conclusions. I—I'll just call him."

"Yeah, that'll work. 'Uh, hi, Mark, I was breaking into your boat and nosing around your bedroom and found some hot chick's clothes—'" Rick mimed.

I elbowed him in the gut. "Not funny. This is not funny."

"Tarnations, girl, how much more evidence do you need? You got a perfectly good man standin' there next to you an' smellin' like a man should, I might add. Don' waste another gol' darned minute on this rascal!" Granddaddy made an angry gesture around the room.

"Thank you, I think," Rick replied to Granddaddy.

The sound of footsteps on the dock echoed in the room.

"Kill the light!" I ordered.

Rick snapped off the bedroom light as I reached for the bathroom light. The room went black. The sound of footsteps grew louder.

"We should hide," I whispered.

"Where's there to hide?" Rick whispered back.

"Granddaddy, get in the shower and pull the curtain."

"No, siree, not a chance," he whispered furiously. "I've seen my share of horror pictures. Send the ol' man to get an ax in the forehead. I weren't born yesterday."

"Against my better judgment," Rick grumbled, "I'll hide in the shower."

"In the closet and no arguing," I said to Granddaddy.

"Too bad Grover weren't here. It'd be jest the place fer him," he cackled.

"Shhhh!" I hissed.

I moved silently up across the bedroom and into the kitchen area. Flashlights flooded the room, and I froze like a deer in the headlights.

There was banging on the cabin door above me.

"Open up, please," said a stern voice. "Annapolis police."

I ran to hide behind the couch, but a beam of light caught me. "We can see you hiding behind the couch. Open the door." The voice was sterner this time.

There was tapping on the window above me, and a familiar face looked down in surprise.

Officer John gave me a big smile and a wave. "Hey, Diana," he called through the glass. "Could you open up?"

Well, it could've been worse. At least it was a fan who'd be taking me to jail. When off duty, Officer John Laney liked to wear Hawaiian shirts and listen to live music. And he always bought me a margarita whenever I played a Jimmy Buffet song. He was a good-looking guy who seemed to have a thing for me, so I'd always wondered why he never asked me out. And then I'd met his wife. Yikes!

I walked up the staircase, opened the door, and stepped out onto the deck. Another officer shined a light in my face, but John quickly pushed it away.

"This is my friend, the singer," John said proudly.

"The one that started that big fight with your wife?" the other asked.

"She's the one! Boy that was a night, wasn't it, Diana?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied uncomfortably. "How's Sheila doing?"

"Oh, she's fine. I tell you, that night did wonders for our marriage." He gave me a wink and laughed. "Nothin' like a jealous wife."

"I'm glad that all worked out for you." Geez, what else could I say to that?

He waved it away. "So we had an anonymous call—obviously a mistake—that there was an intruder on this boat. People that own boats like this are a bit suspicious by nature. Probably some hoity-toity a few boats down got his nose outta joint, but we have to investigate." He glanced around.

"So what are you doing here?" his partner demanded of me.

Officer John glared at him. "No need for that, Bob. I'm sure Diana's staying with a friend. You can see she's all dressed up for the Renaissance Fair."

Bob shook his head in disgust. "Damn Fair! I'd rather have a bunch of spring-breakers than all these nuts running around. Don't even get me started about the damn pirates!"