The Death of Perry Many Paws (43 page)

“I’m sorry. What happened?”

“We were on vacation in Chicago. He bought us some sausages from a street vendor and was attacked by a dog …”

“He was killed by a dog?”

“Oh no. The dog jumped on him and stole the sausages so Roscoe chased the dog, which ran out in front of a taxi. The dog got hit by the taxi and went flying over the roof of the car. It landed right in front of one of those quaint horse-drawn carriages they have for the tourists. Roscoe went running behind the car to get the dog …”

“Why?”

“To get the sausages back, of course. The horse reared up when the dog hit him …”

“Roscoe was killed by the horse?”

“No. The horse started trampling the dog and Roscoe reached under the carriage to get the sausages …”

“And the carriage ran over him?”

“No. The carriage was rocking back and forth but Roscoe was able to crawl under to retrieve the sausages. He rolled out from under the carriage clutching the sausages and climbed onto the curb. Of course all the traffic was stopped now and quite a crowd had gathered …”

“Naturally …”

“Roscoe turned around to see all the commotion in the street and, unfortunately, so did the person in the apartment several floors above him. They were trying to put a huge fan in their window, and when all the commotion started they lost focus and …”

“He got hit by the fan falling out the window.”

“No. The fan fell out the window and crashed on the pavement just inches from Roscoe’s feet. He was recovering from his near escape when he saw a dozen police running down the street blowing whistles and trying to get things organized. They were coming right at him.”

“And?”

“Well, they scared him to death. He dropped dead right next to the smashed fan.”

“After all he went though it was the sight of the police that killed him?”

“Yes. You see, Roscoe had a bit of a problem with the police as a young man and had spent some time in jail. When he saw a dozen police coming straight at him, blowing those whistles, it literally scared him to death. Heart attack.”

“Good Lord.”

“At least I didn’t have to divorce him.” Sybil pulled herself painfully to her feet. “I could use some more cider. Don’t hide in here too long or you’ll miss all the fun!”

She had a point. It was a party. I should be out there socializing and looking for more refreshments. I wandered out of the Sherlock Holmes room making a resolution: Since death was inevitable, when I went, I wanted to go in a humorous way that would bring people a good laugh for generations to come. It’s the least I could do for those left behind. I didn’t want a painful death, but I would happily embrace a silly one.

Cam caught my eye and came over, holding an overflowing plate and a cup. “I’m really getting the hang of this costume now. Look, I can feed myself.”

“I’m proud of you,” I said while stroking the visor on his face.

“If you had this on you would be happy to be able to even move. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Maybe Santa can help you.”

“I’m sure he’d love that. Where’ve you been?” he asked, flicking his tongue at his plate and securing one piece of chex mix. I reached for his cup.

“Try two hands. I was in the Sherlock Holmes room where I had an interesting conversation with Sybil. We got all the way up to husband number three.”

“You’re right. It is easier to eat with your hands than your tongue.”

“I’m going to go check on the snicker doodles. Sybil ate all mine. Can you manage on your own?”

“I’m fine,” he assured me. “I need to find Scott. Oh, and while you were talking to Sybil, John and Jingle arrived. Guess what they are?”

“I don’t know. What does the costume for man-who-married-a-dingbat look like?”

“Very funny. I’ll give you a hint. They look great standing next to Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

Cam gave his visor a flip and went to find Scott. I looked around and finally spotted John and Jingle, dressed as elves. Jingle had long green pointed shoes with bells at the end. She tinkled whenever she walked. Good. That would help me to avoid her.

I grabbed a handful of snicker doodles and chatted briefly with Ted and Thelma, still unable to determine what she was dressed as. I caught Hiram sneaking out for more cider and told him how I had gotten the idea for my next Perry book from the hot-air balloons on the bookcase outside his cubicle. He stared at me and then scurried away. I snuck past John and Jingle, who were having a serious discussion with Hugh’s assistant, Toby (guy from “RENT”) and his partner, Tyler (other guy from “RENT”). John and Jingle bought a lot of antiques so Toby was probably combining business with pleasure. Tyler was listening politely. I noticed Cam collapsed in a bean bag chair in the Children’s Section. It would take a tow truck to get him out of that. He and Scott were having an animated discussion about something; Scott was animated, Cam was sort of stiffly rocking around in the chair. It was a good party despite all that had happened in October and I was feeling a sense of contentment for the first time in weeks. This was followed by a sense of needing to use the bathroom after three cups of mulled cider so I proceeded to the back of the store where Grace maintained a lovely powder room for her customers which was always cleaner than my bathroom at home.

If you are wearing layers of clothing, it takes a while to get yourself settled in the bathroom. Once I was comfortable I didn’t want to cope with rearranging my dress again so soon, so I reached for one of the dog-eared coffee-table books Grace keeps stacked on a white wicker table across from the toilet. These are books that have been thumbed through too often to sell, so she puts them in the powder room for customers to enjoy. I’d looked at the one about European castles a
dozen times, so I picked up the book about famous Hollywood beauties and flipped through the pages.

Growing up I had never been able to decide if I wanted to look like Natalie Wood or Elizabeth Taylor. I decided that this was a good time to decide once and for all. As I was reading the list of Elizabeth Taylor’s husbands, I was trying to imagine her in a situation where she was required to list all of her names on a form and what she would do when she ran out of room. I’d have to ask Sybil if that had ever happened to her. Can you fit Sybil Bright Bowe Button Beatty Bright all on one line? If she had anything monogrammed from her single days she would have been able to keep it forever. She had always been an “SB.”

My heart started pounding and I slowly replaced the book on the table. While struggling with my dress I thought about the era when Sybil had grown up, the 1930s and 40s. Women had monogrammed handkerchiefs then. Sylvie Behrends and Syra former name Brinkleberger were the only other “SB”s I knew. And of the three, it seemed more likely that Sybil would have a monogrammed handkerchief. It was something that Syra wouldn’t have and, let’s face it, Sylvie was dead and the handkerchief had been very real. It wasn’t a ghostly apparition.

I opened the bathroom door, remembering all the times Claudia had whipped out her handkerchief to wipe imaginary smudges off Abbey’s face. I was certain Sybil had carried a handkerchief also. I just didn’t remember if it was monogrammed or not. I wandered out of the powder room in a daze, trying to remember the chronology of the handkerchief’s appearance and disappearance. It had appeared the night of the break-in. Cam had shoved it in the drawer of the table by the stairs. Cam told me Sylvie’s story. We had forgotten about it. Then I decided to write my New Orleans mystery, inspired by Sylvie’s story, and I wanted the handkerchief as a muse. I had gone to look for it and it was gone. That was the day after we had Claudia and Sybil over for
paella. The handkerchief had disappeared between the night of the break-in and the night Sybil had eaten dinner at our house.

A dark figure loomed in front of me and I jumped and grabbed the powder room door to keep my balance. It was Ichabod Crane, staring at me like he could read my thoughts and found them very distasteful.

“What do you want?” I squeaked.

“Um, well, if you are through in there I’d like to, um, use the, um, lavatory,” he answered, turning a bright shade of pink.

I straightened out and smoothed down my dress and adjusted my hair. “Yes, of course, please go ahead.” There was no reason for me to be so jumpy and certainly no reason to be afraid of Hiram. Or anyone. I was seriously beginning to think I hadn’t been “quite right” since I’d found Franklin’s body. Murdered bodies may be strewn about willy-nilly in books but in real life, most people never stumbled on one in their entire lives. I had reason to still be affected by it.

“Your mother-in-law thinks I’m gay.”

Once again I jumped and grabbed the powder room door. It flew open and Hiram was exposed washing his hands at the sink. He screamed like a girl and scrambled to shut the door, pushing me out of the room quite violently. I stumbled forward into Syra’s arms and she caught me before I hit the floor. Claudia came around the corner and took one look at us, sniffed and turned away. Hiram came out of the bathroom.

“What is
wrong
with you?” he asked, staring at me down his long nose.

“Sorry, the door wasn’t locked …”

“So you just barge in when a gentleman is in the lavatory? You knew I was in there.”

“I fell against the door and it opened. You were just washing your hands, Hiram. You weren’t undressed …”

“I was in the
bathroom
!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose …”

“I trust that this incident will go no further and will remain among the three of us,” he warned us.

Syra and I nodded.

He stared at me, his face a couple inches from mine. “I am relying on your good word and delicacy as a gentlewoman and,” he turned to Syra, “a former president.” He stalked off.

“Do you really think he believes we wanted to see him in the bathroom?” Syra asked.

“I have no idea, but that is probably the most intimate thing that has happened to him in decades, so I guess he was profoundly affected,” I replied, once again trying to smooth down my dress and adjust the veil on my head. It seemed to slip back and forth very easily and at any given moment was never straight. “Oh, and sorry about Claudia …”

“That’s OK. You have no control over her. I’m going to find Diane. See you later.” Syra popped her stovepipe hat back on her head and returned to the party. I heard the tingling of bells so darted behind the book shelves and hid until I heard the powder room door close. The coast was clear so I darted back out into the main room and began to mingle my way to the snicker doodles.

“Can you help me with something, dear?” Sybil interrupted my snicker doodle raid with a gentle touch on my back. “I need something from my car.”

I turned to her and noticed that her face was flushed, like she had just climbed the stairs or was embarrassed. “Do you want me to go get it?” I asked, wondering what she could need in the middle of a Halloween party that she had forgotten to bring in in the first place. Claudia was scatterbrained but Sybil was usually more organized.

“I need to get it myself but I would like you to walk outside with me. It’s dark and the sidewalk can be bumpy …”

“Is it something I can just find for you so you don’t need to go all the way to your car? What is it?”

Sybil leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. “Incontinence.”

“Oh. Well, I have some pads in my purse if that would save you a trip to the car,” I offered. Since my flirtation with perimenopause I had started bringing pads with me everywhere because apparently I no longer would know when I would or wouldn’t get my period.

“Those don’t work as well. I have special ones in the car but they are too large to put in my purse. I thought I was all set but then the lure of the mulled cider made me lose my usual self-discipline with liquid intake and now I have a problem. I’d ask Cam but I don’t really want to explain it to him and he can’t seem to walk very well in that costume. Do you mind?”

I brushed off my snicker doodle covered hands and took a last sip of cider. Getting away from the refreshment table was probably a good idea. Sybil’s incontinence was a godsend. Maybe when we got back the snicker doodles and candy corn would be gone. “Of course I don’t mind. Let me get my coat.”

“Can we go out the back so no one sees us? I don’t want people to ask where we’re going.”

I nodded and headed to the back of the bookstore where the coats had been hung. We passed the powder room door and heard singing. It was Cam. For some inexplicable reason he always sings when he washes his hands. He doesn’t sing in the shower, just when he washes his hands. It’s one of those habits that are cute when you are first married but after twenty-five years has you looking for duct tape. Sybil and I both recognized his voice and rolled our eyes.

“Claudia doesn’t do that, does she?” I asked.

“Good heavens no. I don’t believe Claudia has ever sung in her life.”

That sounded about right to me. Every time I saw a trait in Cam that did not resemble his mother I should be thankful rather than critical. I resolved to learn to love his hand-washing solos in the future.

It was cold outside but the sky was clear. The night was beautiful and perfect for a walk if you were bundled up enough. Some Halloweens were too rainy to really enjoy being outside and many times we had had snow. This was a textbook fall evening and I felt glad for all those parents and their little trick or treaters wandering the streets in pursuit of sugar. Now that we were outside Sybil had become quite goal-oriented and was practically pushing me along the alley in the back of the bookstore. I’ve never seen anyone so desperate for adult diapers. If the commercials captured some of this emotion, we’d all be out frantically buying them. Sybil once again had a viselike grip on my arm and was propelling me down the street at a speed both dangerous and ridiculous, considering how we were dressed. We finally reached her car and I leaned against it, out of breath.

“Sybil, you really need to see a doctor about this. I think there are pills or something.”

“I know. I know. But it’s too embarrassing to talk about.” She handed me her keys and pointed to the trunk. They’re in there. Better grab two. You can hide one under your dress.”