NOT What I Was Expecting (6 page)

I tried to ignore
all the impatient drivers and their not so nice comments as we crept across
town.  I guess there actually isn’t much I wouldn’t do for CeCe.  By the time
we coasted into a visitor’s parking spot at the sheriff’s station, CeCe’s lips
were supermodel perfect.  She was ready to wow Deputy Ben.

“Now remember,” I
told her, “we’re here to get information on a neighborhood watch program for the
sisters, not
just
to scope out Deputy Ben.  Understood?”

“I know, but we
can squeeze in a little stealth stalking too,” CeCe pointed out.  “It won’t
hurt.”

“Of course we can
check up on him,” I agreed.  “It’s not like anyone has taken out a restraining
order or anything – yet.  Just remember we’ve also got to get the information
we came for,” I reminded her. 

“Absolutely,” CeCe
said flashing me that excited, conspiratorial smile for the second time today.

We entered the
main doors to the station and asked the young woman at the front desk if Deputy
Ben was available to speak to us about neighborhood watch programs.  The young
officer asked us to have a seat for a minute.  We sat on the chairs she
indicated, which were up against the outside wall.

CeCe immediately
grabbed my hand hard.

“Ouch,” I
whispered loudly.

“Sorry,” she
whispered back, “but did you see that new officer at the desk?  I’ve never seen
her before.  She’s very pretty.  Too pretty.  He sees her every day.  This is
bad.  This is very bad,” CeCe practically hissed.

“Calm down,” I
said softly and soothingly.  “A police officer would never want to marry
another police officer.  Deputy Ben would want someone at home or in a
maternity shop waiting for him to return safely.  Besides she’s too young for
him.  Probably still wears a training bra.”

“I hope you’re
right,” CeCe said.  “Our relationship is at a very vulnerable stage right now. 
He doesn’t need the temptation.”

I never realized
nonexistent and vulnerable could mean the same thing.  Huh.

Deputy Ben Simpson
walked into the waiting area looking very much like the actor Jenson Ackles in
a blue police uniform.  He had sandy blonde hair, blue-green eyes, broad
shoulders, and a small splatter of light freckles on his cheeks.  He smiled at
us and said, “Good afternoon, ladies.  You can follow me back to my office.”

It turned out his
office was a desk in the corner of a big room with five other deputies’ desks. 
We sat in the two chairs in front of his desk.

“How can I help
you today?” he asked as he attempted to straighten his desk by shuffling papers
into a consolidated stack.

I smiled and said
nothing.  This was all CeCe’s show.

“Well, our mothers
live in The Lakes subdivision.  You may already be aware that about 90% of that
community is of retirement age.”

Deputy Ben nodded
to show that he was aware of that fact.

CeCe continued,
“After the recent murder in town, our mothers are feeling kind of vulnerable
and a little nervous.  They asked us to check into how to organize a
neighborhood watch program for their area.  I happen to know that you’re an
expert in that area,” she said coyly.  “So here we are.  Can you help us?”

I was so proud of
her.  Not one stumble, stutter, or incoherent sentence, but why was she squirming
like that?  She must have changed positions four or five times already.  I got
a sinking feeling when I realized those were poses meant to have an alluring
effect on Deputy Ben.

Deputy Ben
smiled.  “You came to the right person.  Setting up a neighborhood watch
program in The Lakes would be my pleasure.  It is definitely needed there.  I’m
surprised they didn’t organize one before now.”  While Deputy Ben was talking,
CeCe was still striking poses.  “If that chair is uncomfortable for you, ma’am,
I can get you a different chair.” Ben suggested.

CeCe froze,
realizing she’d been too obvious.  “No, no,” she assured him.  “These shoes are
just hurting my feet, but it’s so kind of you to offer.  You’re quite a
gentleman.”

Speaking of too
obvious.  She could just throw herself at his feet and be done with it.

Now hold on.  Do
my eyes deceive me, or is he eating up these compliments?  This is like a bad
old movie.  Oh well, this is what she wanted – things to go well with Deputy
Ben.  Behold her success.

“You can tell your
mothers to rest easy.  Our crackerjack team of deputies is hot on the trail of
this murderer, so he’ll soon be behind bars,” Deputy Ben declared with a warm
smile for CeCe.

I looked around
the room.  Crackerjack team, huh?  Well, they must all be taking their
afternoon naps before the crackerjack team gets crackin’, because there was a
definite air of absolutely nothing crackin’ right then.

Deputy Ben reached
across his desk and handed CeCe a bag of information on neighborhood watch
programs.

“Just have your
mothers call to set up a time for me to come out and speak to the community,”
he instructed.  “In a short meeting I can tell them everything they need to
know to get things started.  They’ll be feeling a lot safer real soon.”  Once
again he gave us the reassuring smile.  “Oh, and please be sure to tell them
that if they ever feel threatened or see any suspicious activity, they should
dial 911 immediately.”

“I’m sure it makes
them feel safer just knowing you’re here.  I know it makes me feel safer,” CeCe
flirted shamelessly.

“It’s my job,
ma’am.” Deputy Ben said with a smile. 

No, really?  I
have this overwhelming urge to change the channel.  I can tell CeCe’s excited,
though.  She obviously feels this has been going very well for her.

Just then the
front desk little girl walked up, flashed Ben a smile, handed him some coffee,
and said, “Just the way you like it, Ben.”

CeCe’s jaw hit the
floor, and she shot me an
I-told-you-so
look.  When Ben smiled at the
too pretty front desk girl and checked her out a little as she walked away, my
heart sank for CeCe.  She wouldn’t take this well.

When Deputy Ben
dragged his eyes back to us, he asked, “Anything else I can help you ladies
with today?”

CeCe practically
shouted, “No,” and peered at him through slits.  Ben looked confused as he could
feel the temperature had changed in the room, but he didn’t understand why.

We stood up to
leave, and I gave him a small smile and tiny wave.  We made our way out of the
police station.  As soon as we climbed in and closed the car doors, CeCe let it
fly.

“Can you believe
that?” she shouted.

“No, I can’t,” I
said emphatically, shaking my head.

“What a trampy
little slut,” CeCe exclaimed.

Oh, she’s going
that way with it.  I thought we’d be upset with Ben, but apparently we hate
Little Miss Front Desk.  Alrighty then.

“She’s a disgrace
to the uniform,” she stressed while pointing at the building for emphasis.

“Well, look at it
this way.  Things were going very well for you for a few minutes there. 
Obviously, he’s not completely under her spell,” I pointed out.  That lightened
her mood a little.

“That’s true,” she
said thoughtfully.  “And the love that I know will be between Deputy Ben and I cannot
be denied.  I have faith in our love.”

Um, okay.  I’ll
let that go, because I will
not
be the one to break her heart.  He’ll
have to do that all by himself.

Her resolve back,
CeCe said, “Do you want to go shopping?  I need a killer outfit to wear to the
neighborhood watch meeting.”

“Sure, but later,”
I said, “We better get back to the shop.  We’ve left Fry there too long
already.”

CeCe glanced at
her watch.  “You’re right.  Poor Fry. We better hurry.”  CeCe’s phone rang,
“Pour
some sugar on  
. . .,” we both started to sing.

“Hello,” she said,
“Oh, hi Mother.  Eliza’s funeral is tomorrow morning?”  She shot me a ‘
remember
that
’ look.  “Of course we can make it.  Uh-huh that dress would be
perfect.  I don’t know what I’m wearing.  Yes, I’ll make it conservative.  I
promise.  Okay, see you tomorrow.  No, we won’t be late.”  CeCe, hung up and
gave me a ‘
did you get all that
’ look.

I did.

CHAPTER 4

Before I was
emotionally ready for it, Wednesday morning arrived.  I’m never really prepared
for a funeral.

“We’re meeting the
sisters there aren’t we?” I yelled down the hall as I pulled on my stockings
under my maroon princess seamed dress.  When CeCe and I were teenagers, we
began referring to our mothers collectively as “the sisters.”  At that age,
since girls tend to disagree with parental figures from time to time, there
were undoubtedly moments the reference included some negative connotations.  At
this point in our lives, the reference to our mothers as “the sisters” was not
only a habit but also a term of endearment.  We were each fond of our aunt as
well as our mother and didn’t want to think of a time when they wouldn’t be our
team of loved ones, butting into our lives at every opportunity.

CeCe came into my
room wearing one black, strappy shoe with her black suit, carrying a black pump
in her hand.  She looked at me with a question mark expression.  “Yes, we’re
meeting them there,” she answered distractedly.  “Look it, here’s the deal.  I
want to wear the black strappy shoes, but I know this is a solemn occasion,
with a woman being dead and all.  That makes me think maybe I should wear the
pumps.  What do you think?”

I tried to look
thoughtful for a few seconds, so my words of wisdom would be more believable
when I gave my advice.  When I opened my mouth to respond, CeCe began her
justification for why I should pick the ones she had already decided on before
I was able to say anything.  She just didn’t
know
she’d already made her
decision.  Is she related to my mother or what?

“See, the strappy
ones make my legs look sexier and no, I shouldn’t be worried about my legs
looking sexy, except that Deputy Ben will be there.  Can’t I support the sisters
through this difficult time and still try to look my best?  When you think
about it, the sexiness is to help my mom, so wouldn’t that be considered one
way I’m helping her cope with the loss of her club member and friend?” she explained.

I could tell CeCe
was picking up momentum, so I let her go with it.

“I mean, if Deputy
Ben notices my sexy legs and finally asks me out, and we become an item, we
could get engaged,” she continued.  “That would lead to the wedding of my
mother’s dreams, then her happily married daughter could find out she’s
pregnant, and Mother could be there at the hospital when the baby’s born. 
She’d be so proud of her first grandchild who looks so much like Ben that we’d
think it would be cute to name him Bart, you know – sticking with a ‘B’ name. 
When you think about it, I’d really be wearing the black strappies for my
mother’s benefit.  You know how much she wants grandchildren.”

You gotta love her. 
I had trouble suppressing the smile that crept onto my face as I listened to
this scenario.  “Bart?” I asked, softly.  “You’re going to name your son Bart?”

“What’s wrong with
Bart?” CeCe asked, sounding slightly offended that I didn’t love her baby’s
name.

“You do realize
you just named your child Bart Simpson, don’t you?” I had to ask.

As recognition
began to register in CeCe’s expression, my cell phone rang.  I went over to dig
in my purse for the phone while it serenaded me with Journey’s song, “
Any way
you want it.”

CeCe quietly headed
back to her room to slip into the other strappy shoe.  When I located the phone
and saw that it was my mother calling, I kind of wished we were already in the
car.  I suspected I knew why she was calling.

“Maggie, where are
you girls?” my mother demanded.  “We thought you’d be here by now.  You know
how difficult it is to park if you get here at the last minute.”

Last minute?  I
felt my eyes shoot heavenward.

“Mother, we’ll be
leaving in five minutes, we’re ten minutes away, and the funeral doesn’t start
for another 45 minutes.  That means we’ll be there a good half hour before time
to begin,” I pointed out.

“Okay, dear,
whatever you think.  I just hate to see you girls have trouble parking because
you cut it so close,” my mother informed me.

Although I could
have taken the time, and elevated my blood pressure, to explain that 30 minutes
is NOT cutting it close, I responded, “We’ll hurry.”  It’s just easier.

“Let’s roll,
CeCe.  The sisters are getting anxious because we’re
so late
,” I yelled,
unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

As CeCe met me in
the living room, she tried to suppress a smile as she pointed out the obvious.

“Didn’t we plan to
get there half an hour earlier than necessary in order to
avoid
having
the sisters become anxious?” she inquired.

“Yes, we did,” I
agreed.  “Once again they have proven themselves formidable adversaries and
were able to achieve new heights of anxiety in record time.  Let’s go.”

After CeCe parked
her Toyota with no problem, we approached the people standing around the
general vicinity of the mausoleum.  My mother had explained to us earlier that
Eliza’s family opted to have the service graveside rather than in the church or
funeral home.  This being a smallish town, there was probably much discussion
on the wisdom of breaking with the traditional indoor service followed by the
trek over to the gravesite for burial.  Since Eliza’s brother and his wife were
from Ohio, they finalized the arrangements through the funeral home before
arriving in town. 

Word on the street
was that the northerners were more than a little surprised to discover that we
don’t bury our dead in the ground here in South Louisiana.  It wouldn’t do to
have our loved ones washing back up to the surface after a heavy rain.  With
our moist (well, swampy) ground, that is exactly what would happen. 
Fortunately, Eliza lived in this area for the last 55 years and had the
foresight to make the majority of her funeral plans prior to her death. 
Knowing her family wasn’t from this area and the hardship that it would create
for them, her attention to the details indicated she was a practical,
thoughtful woman.  Her actions reminded me of my mother and Aunt Shirley, which
made me sad.  Being reminded they had things in common with the murdered woman
was very unsettling.  I always find funerals sad and sympathize with the
friends and family of the departed.  The thoughts linking Eliza and the sisters
in my mind brought more sadness than I had expected at a stranger’s funeral.

“Are you all right,
dear?”

I’d been so lost
in thought I didn’t notice CeCe had moved on and was currently mingling with
the other mourners.  Nor had I noticed the elderly gentleman approach until he
spoke and snapped me back to the present time.

“You looked upset,
and I wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to help.  Sometimes talking
helps.  I’m Barney,” he explained as he introduced himself.

Although he had a
few decades on me, this man had obviously been very handsome in his day.  Wait
a minute.  Did he say his name was Barney?  Luke was talking to Fry about his
Uncle Barney.  Coincidence or the same person?  That would explain his
‘good-looking back in the day’ appearance.

“No, I’m fine. 
But I’m so sorry for your loss.  Were you and Miss Eliza close?” I asked.  I
silently reminded myself this was not the time or place to ask him if he did,
in fact, have a nephew named Luke, and if said nephew was looking to settle
down with a good woman, have 2.2 children, and maybe even a German Shepherd
named Hansel?

“She was a dear
friend, and I’ll miss her tremendously,” he responded.  As he spoke, a little
moisture developed in the corners of his eyes.

Oh, dear.  I’m
afraid I inherited my mother’s bluntness at times, and when it comes to
comforting others, that is not a good thing.  It works with CeCe, but she has
known me all her life and can read my intentions between the words that tend to
come out somewhat tactless.  This man doesn’t know me and can’t be expected to
make allowances for my gene pool, so I tried to think of what CeCe would say. 
I got nothing.

“There, there,” I
awkwardly attempted to comfort him as I patted his arm and looked around for
CeCe to give her the ‘
get over here
’ look.  Success!  There she is
talking to Luke.  TALKING TO LUKE!  NO!  While CeCe might say the correct thing
in emotional situations at times, she could be counted on to lose that ability
when she’s ‘helping me’ attract a guy’s attention.  Believe me, this has come
up before, and it never went well.

Fortunately,
Barney seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and didn’t really notice my lame
attempt at comforting.  “We had coffee together at least once every week,” he
confided.  “I told her stories that made her laugh, and she counted on me.  She
entrusted me with her inheritance, you know.  I told her ‘Eliza, you know Gus
Jenson down at the bank.  He can help you out,’ but she wouldn’t hear of it. 
Said I was the only one.  Made me feel special that way, you know?”

As I listened to
Barney talk I became convinced this was Luke’s uncle.  In the conversation I’d
overheard, he mentioned the poor man making sense one minute and losing you the
next.  It was time to change the subject and go for a less emotional topic.

“You’re Luke’s
uncle aren’t you?” I asked softly.  While it’s true I’d decided not to pump him
for information about Luke, I felt I needed a topic that might be more
comforting to him than the previous subject.

“Luke?”  Barney
looked at me blankly for a few seconds, but then I saw the relief in his face. 
“Luke, yes, he’s a fine boy.  My brother would be so proud of that boy coming
all the way back here just to make sure I’m not lonely.  He’s living with me
now, you know.  He was always checking in on me before, but now he’s here
whenever I need him.  Fine boy!  You’re friends with Luke?”

“I don’t really
know him all that. . . ,” I started to explain.

Barney grabbed my
arm, and pulled me in Luke’s general direction.  “Oh, sure, sure.  You gotta
meet Luke.  Luke!  Luke!” Barney yelled as we headed toward Luke and CeCe who
were still engrossed in conversation.

My mind didn’t
work fast enough to do anything except go with the flow on this one.  Wow, Luke’s
Uncle Barney must have been working out as well, because he had some grip on
him.  Besides, CeCe and Luke had stopped talking and were watching us approach,
so any momentary fantasy I had of escaping without being seen was out of the
question.  Did CeCe just wink at me with one of those ‘I took care of it’
smiles?  This funeral just kept getting better and better!

“Luke, I was just
talking to – I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Barney apologized as he
discovered he couldn’t make introductions.

“Maggie,” Luke and
I responded at the same time.

“And I should be
the one apologizing to you,” I continued.  “I didn’t introduce myself.”

Barney chuckled,
“Well, I notice my nephew came up with your name quick enough and already found
a lovely lady to keep company with this morning.  I guess you take after your
Uncle Barney, Luke!  I have always been pretty popular with the ladies, if I do
say so.”

“Well, Uncle
Barney, you are, and you do say so all the time,” Luke laughed as he and his
uncle shared a comfortable grin.  It was obvious they were very fond of each
other.  “These lovely ladies are Fry’s bosses,” Luke continued.  “I went to
high school with them and just ran into them again yesterday.  This is CeCe,
Uncle Barney,” Luke introduced the only person in our foursome his uncle hadn’t
met.

“CeCe was just
telling me about some of the things Maggie has accomplished since high school,”
Luke informed Uncle Barney.  He then turned his attention to me as he pierced
me with his warm, brown eyes.  “I have to admit I’m impressed and feeling a
little inadequate in your presence.”

Although Luke said
this with a smile, it didn’t really lessen the blow I felt which just slammed
me in the gut.

While I gave them
all a tentative smile on the outside, inside a voice was screaming,
What did
you do, CeCe?  WHAT DID YOU DO?
  Unfortunately, the earth refused to open
and swallow me up, so I was about to find out.  Dumb earth!

“Working with
adults unable to read?” Luke remarked incredulously.  “Big Sister to a
motherless girl who was in trouble as a juvenile offender, but now, thanks to
you, is on the honor roll?”  Luke went on without any opportunity for me to
respond, not that I knew how to diffuse this.  “And your work at the hospital. 
Reading to sick children and holding newborns in the neonatal unit?  Those are
not small contributions.  I hope this community realizes all the hard work you
do.”

“We’re waiting to
hear from the Vatican on the sainthood nomination,” I advised him and grabbed
CeCe by the arm as I spoke.  “It’s good seeing you again Luke, but I
really
need to borrow my cousin for a moment.  Would you excuse us?  Nice meeting you
Barney,” I said as my exit line while I hauled CeCe away from the others.

“I’m going to kill
you so dead,” I threatened through clenched teeth, still smiling just in case
anyone was looking.  “CeCe, how could you make up all that stuff?  What were
you thinking?  What is he going to think of me when he finds out everything you
told him is a lie?  How are you going to explain why you lied?”

“I’ll tell him I’m
as shocked as he is, because I believed you when you told me all that stuff,” she
replied solemnly.

The look on my
face must have made her realize she’d already had enough fun at my expense.

“Kidding!  I’m
kidding,” she assured me in an attempt to keep me from losing it in a big way. 
“C’mon, Maggie, how is he going to find out none of that is true?”

“Are you serious?”
I asked all shocked.  “This town is the size of a postage stamp.  Everybody
knows everybody else.  He repeats that to
anybody
, and they will set him
straight before he can say Big Fat Liar!”  I was holding it together by a
thread, and that strand was beginning to get a little frayed.