Coming Unclued (15 page)

Julie waved the scissors at me and gestured to the dining room chair. “Settle down. Once I’ve had at you it will look a lot better. And look on the bright side, you’ll be much less recognizable.”

“Yes, that’s you. Glass half full. Always looking on the sunny side.”

Julie ignored me as she turned the blow dryer on and pointed it in my direction. “Sit down.” So I sat down. I wasn’t a woman with a lot of options at that point. Julie dried my hair, and then, with her hands on her hips eyed me over in a fashion that might lead one to believe that she had some ability as a hairdresser.

“Let’s face it,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter how it looks. The important thing is that you don’t look like yourself, that the average man on the street isn’t going to see you and call 911. Our mission is to make you look completely different.”

“In other words you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Julie pondered that for a moment as she picked up a lock of my lank, orange hair. “I’ve seen it done. How hard can it be to cut hair?”

So Julie had at me with the scissors and I stared into space and thought about how much my life had changed in two days. On Saturday afternoon I had lain on the couch and contemplated skipping dessert at the office party because I wanted to bank some calories for the Christmas season. Wouldn’t want to indulge too much, let go a little and eat an extra piece of cheesecake. No, wouldn’t want to ruin my life by gaining a couple pounds over Christmas.

“How does it look?” I asked her.

“There’s less of it,” answered Julie. “Which is a good thing, given the color. Do you want bangs?”

“Sure. Bangs. Whatever. What does it matter?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Julie. She snipped a bit more and then took a few steps back to eye me over. “Not bad,” she said. “If it wasn’t orange it would actually be quite an improvement, almost like a mini-facelift.”

“But it is orange.”

“That can be rectified once your more pressing problems are taken care of. We should burn this hair,” said Julie, using her hand to sweep it off the floor. “Or bury it in the backyard. It can’t stay here. What if the police get a search warrant and find it in the garbage? They’ll know to be on the lookout for a woman with ghastly orange hair.” She eyed me over as she swept the hair into a pile. “Though not a bad cut. Not bad at all.”

Julie collected up the hair, tossed it in the fireplace and lit a match to it. As the pungent smell of burnt hair filled the room, Julie snuck a look out the living room window. “He’s still there. Do you think he keeps a bottle in the car in case he needs to pee? Now we have to figure out how to safely get you out.”

“And also figure out where I’m going.”

“You can’t go to a friend’s house. That’s the first place they’ll look. I don’t think a hotel is a great idea. They’ll run your credit card and the jig will be up. And you can’t use my credit card because they might run a trace on that as well. And don’t use your bank card.” Julie tapped the pen against her front teeth as she pondered the complexities of the situation. “I guess you could check into one of those cheap motels out on the Lakeshore. I don’t imagine they insist on a credit card.”

“I can’t check into a hooker motel. I’d be afraid to sit down anywhere.”

“You don’t need to sit. You can perch. We’re not looking for a permanent home for you. Just somewhere safe to use as a base of operations for a couple of days until we figure something out.”

“A couple of days? Do you really think that’s all it will take?”

“The way I see it we only have a couple of days before the shit really hits the fan. We’re not so clever that we can keep you hidden once the entire city knows you’re on the loose.”

“Well Christmas Eve is in less than a week. And I can’t spend Christmas in a cheap motel where every surface is covered in secretions.”

“Then stop whining and get thinking! I can’t do everything.”

Can’t do everything? What exactly had she done so far? Julie was up and pacing around the room, nibbling on a cookie as she pretended to think. How could she eat when my life was in the balance?

“Pass me one of those would you,” I said to her. Who am I kidding? I can always eat. Julie tossed me a cookie, a shoddy, never played sports in her life toss that fell two feet short of my chair. Abby opened one eye and forced herself off the couch and over to the cookie where she gobbled it up in one bite. “Thanks,” I said.

And then Julie peered through the curtain. “Oh my God,” she said. “There’s another one.”

I jumped up and hustled over to the window. There were now two police cars parked in front of the house. “They’re getting ready for the take down,” said Julie. “We’ve got to move. Shit shit shit. Don’t panic. Let me think.”

I waited a moment. “This is what I think,” I said as Julie interrupted me with her patented hand in the face move.

“I’ve got it. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. I’m an idiot. This is genius. I’m a genius. Okay.” She looked at me with a tight smile. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What?”

“I have a key to Diane’s house. She left it with me in case there’s an emergency and someone needs to get in. Well we’ve got an emergency and you need to get in.”

Diane, who I’d met a few times, lives four houses down from Julie, in a former cottage that has been extensively renovated and was now so glorious it had been featured in a couple of home decorating magazines. “Where’s Diane?” I asked.

“She took the kids to New Zealand for the holidays. They’re doing some kind of Lord of the Rings tour. They won’t be back for another ten days.”

“Nice. That’s my dream vacation.”

“I’m going to get you the key and you’re going to cut through the ravine and go in her back door. She probably has lights on a timer, but you can’t turn on any extra lights and you have to stay away from the windows. If one of the neighbors sees you we’re toast.”

“Does anyone know you have the keys?”

“I don’t think so. Diane only thought of it at the last minute and hopefully she’s somewhere deep in the Mines of Moria so there’s no danger of her walking in on you. I think you’ll be safe there for a couple of days. Get your stuff together. I’m going to get the key. And here, take Andrew’s cell. Harder to trace and he’ll never miss it.” Julie headed into the kitchen and I took another look out the window. Another police car was pulling up. Unbelievable. How many cops did it take to arrest one middle-aged woman? I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm myself. “Julie,” I called in a high pitched voice. “Julie, hurry up. I think they’re coming for me.”

A couple minutes later I was out the back door, wearing Andrew’s old coat, Alice’s Little Mermaid backpack over my shoulder and a very loose pair of Julie’s boots. “Get down into the ravine,” whispered Julie. “Diane has a gate in her fence. Be careful when you open it because it squeaks. Move fast and make sure no one sees you. And watch out for the coyote.”

“What?”

“There’s a coyote back there. It ate a neighbor’s Chihuahua, but it doesn’t bother people.” She paused for a moment. “So far anyway. You’ll be fine. Get going.”

“I thought they caught that thing,” I hissed.

“No, he’s elusive, but relax. You’re a lot bigger than a Chihuahua. Leave Andrew’s cell on, for now anyway. I’ll be in touch as soon as something happens. Remember to stay low.” She gave me a push. “Go go.”

The moon was full, but it was hazy and it was still a good couple hours before sunrise. I’ve never enjoyed being outside at night, though in most parts of the city it’s never really dark. Julie’s backyard is a whole other story. It’s like being in the country and I’m really more of a city girl. I hustled to the edge of the backyard and looked down into the ravine. There didn’t seem to be anything moving, though I wasn’t conversant with the habits of coyotes. Did they sleep in trees, one eye open, waiting to jump on unsuspecting prey? Diane was only four doors down. I could be at her back door in less than a minute. The sound of a car door slamming reverberated through the darkness. The police? I took off at a good clip and within seconds tripped over a tree root and felt myself falling. I grabbed at a branch which broke off in my hand and landed in a heap about ten feet down the hill. My ankle was throbbing, my tail bone ached and I was scared witless. Weren’t wild animals attracted to the maimed? I pulled myself up on my hands and knees and struggled to my feet. My ankle ached and I couldn’t put much weight on it. Grabbing on to shrubs and branches, I managed to yank myself up the hill, putting as much weight as I could on my good leg. I hobbled along the edge of the ravine until I came to the fence that encircled Diane’s house. I pushed on the gate and it opened with a piercing squeak. Why didn’t she get that fixed? She lived in a million dollar house and she couldn’t lubricate her fence? I shut the gate as slowly and quietly as I could and limped through the yard and up the back steps to her deck. A hot tub. Nice, if you like that kind of thing. I don’t. Sitting around in a big, bubbling bathtub with a bunch of hairy bodies is not my idea of an enjoyable pastime.

Diane’s house, what I could see of it as I edged through in the dark, was beautiful in a modern, stark, sharp edged tables and no comfortable chairs kind of way. And cold. Very cold. I wondered if I was allowed to turn the heat up. Would a passerby be able to tell? I dug around in Alice’s backpack for Andrew’s cell and called Julie. She picked up on the first ring. “Am I allowed to turn up the heat?” I whispered. “It’s freezing in here.”

“I guess so,” she said. “Are you staying out of sight?”

“I am laying low. What are the police doing?”

“Nothing. Waiting for daylight I guess. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’m going to get dressed and lie down on the couch until something happens.”

“Get dressed?”

“I’m hardly going to answer the door in my pajamas and sheep slippers. Get some sleep so we can go at this clear headed.”

I hung up, found the thermostat in the living room and turned it up and sat down on the couch with my feet up on the coffee table. The iron coffee table. Diane’s former husband, Nathan or Nate, something like that, was somewhat famous in the neighborhood as the guy who almost bled to dead from having a piece of a glass coffee table embedded in his ass. He’d been frolicking with the very attractive cleaning lady while Diane was at soccer practice with the kids and they ended up on the coffee table. It broke and a large piece of glass got stuck in Nate’s left buttock. The cleaning lady kindly pulled it out. Big mistake. Nate almost bled to death before the ambulance arrived and he still has to walk with a cane. Diane and Nate split up. She got the house, the kids and a huge settlement and bought herself a nice hand crafted, indestructible coffee table. Lesson learned there.

My eyes adjusted to the dark and I headed up the very grand staircase. Where to sleep? Was there a guest room? Although I wasn’t officially a guest, it seemed like the most appropriate choice. The first room I looked in was decorated in a racecar theme. Car posters and a car bedspread and a blue plastic bed with wheels. Evan had had the same bed when he was little. What was he going to think when he heard I was on the lam? The poor kid. His father’s new face plastered on billboards all over the city and his mother’s old face at newsstands everywhere. This would be a real test of his resilience. At least he had Mikel to help him through it and keep him from getting overexcited.

I walked to the end of the hall and peeked into what I thought would be the master bedroom. Instead it was a library. A beautiful room with built in bookshelves and a ladder to get to the high books with comfy chairs and a chaise lounge. I’ve always coveted a chaise lounge. And a library.

I woke up, curled up on the chaise, to the ringing of the phone. I was disoriented at first, staring up at the elaborate crown moldings and shelves filled with books. It was Julie. “Hi,” she said. “They came, they inquired after you and they left. They searched the house and to my shock and amazement you were missing. Apparently you crept out while I was sleeping, which oddly enough is true.”

“Are you enjoying this?” I asked her. “Because you’re sounding a little too cheerful.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it,” said Julie, “but I do seem to have discovered a previously untapped talent for misleading my husband, lying to the police and aiding and abetting an accused criminal. I must admit it’s been rather invigorating to see what I’m capable of.”

“You haven’t told Andrew?”

“For his own protection. The man cannot lie.”

“So what’s next? Now that you’re so invigorated have you figured that out?”

“We have to find out who really killed your boss.”

“Oh yes. That.” I pulled a mohair throw closer around me and stared blankly at the huge abstract painting on the wall. “We’re so screwed,” I said. “I should just turn myself in.”

“Oh shut up,” snapped Julie. “Stop moping. We’re just getting started at this. Look at those cops who interrogated you. You think we can’t do as well as them?”

“They’re the police Julie! They walk in somewhere and flash their badge and people shake in their shoes and answer their questions. They can get search warrants and they know how to dust for fingerprints.”

“You need to stop using your cell phone. Actually — wait — you’re using Andrew’s phone. Turn it off for now. Save the battery. Tomorrow I’ll get you one of those pay as you go phones and register it under an assumed name.” And with that, Julie hung up.

My stomach was empty and my head throbbed from a lack of caffeine. I wondered just how much a bad dye job and a horrible haircut had changed my looks. Could I risk a trip to the coffee shop? How was I supposed to think without coffee? And how the hell was I supposed to get in touch with Julie without a cell phone?

Diane’s phone. There wouldn’t be a trace on that. I got up and started looking for a phone. On the desk in the corner there was cute plastic phone in the shape of Superman. I punched Julie’s number into Superman’s stomach. “I said don’t call,” she said, with no preamble.

“Don’t hang up,” I said. “And stop being a moron. It’s quite stressful given you’re my only ally. They haven’t had time to put a trace on your phone. I’m sure they need a court order for something like that. We need a plan and I need a coffee. A coffee and a bagel. Multi-grain with light cream cheese. No, not light. Full fat, and lots of it.”