Chapter 5. I made three bad mistakes Saturday morning

I made three bad mistakes Saturday morning. First, I should have called Mary Sloan and told her I couldn’t help her with her damned boat, that something terribly important had come up— maybe flying down to Washington to advise the President on gay issues, advice he sorely needed. Second I should have driven, not walked, down to the East End where she moored her boat. Third, I should have left Fargo home.

As it was, I put on a jacket and my old fisherman’s cap, picked up the dog’s leash and set off on a cloudy, chilly, but blessedly dry walk. We got to the public access way just as Mary pulled up in her tan Hyundai Santa Fe. It was always so pristine that I wondered if she drove home from work every night and put it in the shower. She frowned on seeing Fargo, but then, he didn’t seem overjoyed to see her, either. She tapped her foot impatiently while I took off my jacket and laid it on a nearby retaining wall.

As I straightened up, something thumped lightly against my chest and I looked down. Automatically I felt for the locket and gold chain I always wore. It had been my grandmother’s, and the locket was engraved with her initials, which were also mine. It was unique and opened to form three small picture holders. In the largest was a cropped photo of my grandparents as a young couple. In the two even smaller areas were tiny headshots of my mother and Aunt Mae as little girls. I treasured it. Thank God I had noticed it. In the activities to come I might well have broken the chain and let it fall into the water without noticing. I carefully removed it and placed it atop my jacket while Mary cleared and re-cleared her throat. We started to work, and the first problem was Fargo. He raced in and out of the shallows, thinking this was a fine new game with me in the water, too! He also tried to help by jumping against the side of the boat and then jumping on me with sopping wet legs and paws. Certain he would either cause an accident or find himself in one, I leashed him to a nearby fence. There he alternately whimpered and barked and whined, while I gritted my teeth and Mary sporadically called out, “Silence! I say be silent, sir! ” as if she were an English lord correcting a recalcitrant royal hound. I assumed she had heard it somewhere on TV.

The rest of the job went about as efficiently and pleasantly as those things usually do, but we finally got the boat winched onto the trailer without serious incident. Mary still looked clean and dry and terribly competent. I had knocked my cap into the water, so it was cold and soggy on my head. I had somehow scraped my shin and it hurt. Half the bay had come in over the tops of my Wellingtons. As I dumped the water out of them onto the sidewalk, I realized disconsolately that—from the point of view of comfort—it didn’t much matter. I felt chilled and unusually clumsy as Fargo and I grumpily walked the couple of hundred yards to Mary’s house.

It was easier to walk than try somehow to get Fargo dry enough and clean enough to ride in the SUV.

I helped her disconnect the trailer. As we pushed it into the garage, the rain started—immediately heavy. Mary looked uncomfortable. The normal thing would be either to invite us in or take us home. This was not to be. “I have a dentist’s appointment in a few minutes, ” she said, truthfully or not. “If you want to wait while I run in and change, I’ll give you a lift downtown.” She did not invite us to come in while she changed. I was too discouraged to do other than nod. Fargo and I stood in the garage doorway, watching the deluge with mutually disgusted expressions. I was swearing never, ever to let this woman talk me into anything again. Fargo, I think, was mentally composing his newspaper ad for a new owner. As we rode downtown (with Fargo in the back on newspapers and Mary ostentatiously sniffing), the rain obligingly stopped. We exchanged curt farewells and Fargo and I began the squishy walk home.

When we were still blocks from my house, it started to sprinkle. By the time we reached the Green Mansions Inn, a gay men’s guesthouse, it was a steady drizzle. Green Mansions was a marvelous old Victorian house on the bay with green shingles and white trim and a wonderful wraparound veranda. Usually studded with large Edwardian wicker fan chairs and small tables, it was bare now except for a rather badly warped wooden table, with what looked to be a broom handle serving as one of its legs. For years the inn had been owned by two gay men named Peter and the Wolf. Their real names were Peter Mellon and Frank Wolfman, but some long-ago wit had coined the sobriquet and so they had remained. Now in their early sixties, they catered to an older crowd, and it was said their invariably pretty houseboys would do considerably more than bring you fresh towels if you asked nicely and tipped hugely.

Wolf was on the porch collecting the mail, and looked up as we passed. “Alex! You’re getting soaked! Get in here and dry off till this passes. Are you crazy? It’s cold out here! Let me give you a warm drink.”

We had already ascertained that I was crazy and God knew I was cold. My feet felt like those of Shackleton’s feckless crewmembers. Someone sounding motherly and holding out promise of hot drinks was welcome indeed. I climbed the steps and shed my jacket and boots in the hallway. Wolf hung up the jacket and wisely left the boots alone. As Fargo and I padded damply into the living room, Wolf called up the stairs, “Peter, Alex Peres is here. Bring down a pair of your heavy crew socks, they’re smaller than mine. And a towel for Fargo.”

Peter came downstairs with towel and socks in hand and a quizzical expression on his round face, took one look at me, said “Oh, you poor thing, ” tossed me the socks and called over his shoulder, “Lewis! Dear boy, do make a pot of tea quicker than quick! Bring it in the living room, please. Tea for three, dear boy.”

Following Peter was an enormous gray-and-white cat named Pewter, after the cat in the Rita Mae Brown books. Fargo tensed and I muttered, “Far-go! ” warningly. He seemed to sense this was not the time to rearrange this Victoriana-filled room, and Pewter strolled casually toward the kitchen as if it had been her original plan. I began to towel the dog. One crisis avoided.

The socks felt almost sinfully soft and warm, and the tea tray made me feel better by its very appearance. Lewis set it on the coffee table and began to pour. It struck me as somewhat incongruous, as the tea set was obviously sterling, that there were three nondescript mugs on the tray instead of cups and saucers of the Royal Doulton I was sure they possessed. Maybe Lewis figured I wasn’t worth the wash-up.

He asked me if I wanted milk, and as I looked at him I realized he was one of the three young men I had seen in the Wharf Rat the other day. I asked merely for one sugar. He complied and as he handed me the mug I observed a recent bad scar on his hand and wondered idly what had happened. It looked as though it should have been stitched.

Reaching for the mug, I noticed his bright little eyes drop with interest to the heavy signet ring I wore and then rise to stare at my breasts. Clever detective that I am, it took me almost no time to determine that he probably was not admiring my sexy sweatshirted figure, but my locket. I looked at him sharply and he covered himself with a simpering smile on his full, pouty mouth. “I was just admiring your beautiful gold jewelry, Ms. Peres. I’ll bet they’re both your favorite family heirlooms, aren’t they? ”

I murmured noncommittally and wondered why anyone would call him dear boy. And I thought that if he were my houseboy I’d keep my jewelry in the safe, along with any cash. I realized Peter was standing over me with a bottle of rum and extended my mug gratefully. I explained why I was wandering the streets in my soaked condition and they both laughed.

“Mary got you, too, did she? She’s gone through about everybody in town by now. She got Wolf a couple of years ago. He stepped in a hole and hurt his ankle and she never even drove him home! The poor baby had to hobble to a pay phone and call me to come and get him.” Wolf looked more like a fading Ashley Wilkes to me than a poor baby, and Peter was surely a chubby leprechaun with male pattern baldness. No matter—they were both white knights for my money today.

“Yes, ” Wolf sighed dramatically. “It was extremely painful. Now, when we see her coming, we cross the street and make the sign of the cross.” He held his crossed index fingers in front of him in the universal keep-the-vampires-away sign. We all laughed and began to chat, of course, about the weather. Peter was afraid it would ruin the parade.

“Are you two going to be in it? ” I asked.

“No, ” Peter answered. “Those darling people at the Crown and Anchor have asked me to do my little Judy Garland piece and I just couldn’t refuse. I’ll be busy getting all made up while the parade’s on. I’m getting too old, of course, but one hates simply to give in, doesn’t one? ”

“One does, ” I concurred. “What about you, Wolf? ”

He shrugged and placed his mug on the coffee table. “I’m not much on costumes or parades. Oh, I love to see them. I just don’t care about being in them. And you, Alex? ”

“I’m with you. I’d rather watch than march. I am wearing a costume only because Lainey and Cassie’s party demands it. And the costume itself is hardly inspired—it’s my brother’s old army uniform.”

“You should wear a tux, ” Peter stated. “Have you ever noticed how great women look in tuxes? Really feminine women look terribly soigné and sexy, and masculine women look terribly suave and sexy. You’d look good in one—a little mixture of both, I think.” He eyed me appraisingly.

I felt myself blush and hated it. “Well, it’s too late now, ” I replied. “And I am taking up your day. Is the inn filled this weekend? ”

“Oh, yes, every room and then next week we drop dead.” Wolf waved vaguely toward the two upper floors. “A few rooms booked in November, but I think we may cancel those and leave early for Florida. We have a marvelous condo on South Beach that looks better all the time. We are getting tired of all the guesthouse turmoil and may just put Green Mansions up for auction to whoever wants to work more hours than a fireman. I may take Rima, here, with me—and Pewter of course, ” he added with a grin.

“Oh, don’t leave, Ptown wouldn’t be the same.” As I heard myself mouth the platitude, I realized I meant it.

“Well, we may do one more season.”

“You’ve been saying that for two years, ” Peter pouted.

I laughed. “Well, listen, thank you both for resuscitating me. It was truly a noble deed. I think the rain has stopped again, so I’ll run while I can.” Somehow I set the mug down on the edge of the coaster, and it tipped over. Tea immediately formed a growing circle on the antique coffee table and began to drizzle onto the Persian rug.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry! ” I tried to wipe up the mess with a hopelessly tiny napkin.

Wolf called Lewis to bring paper towels, and the young man began the mop-up with an amused glance at me. Even as he mopped, I noticed that either the heat of the tea or the alcohol was making the top of the table turn white. That didn’t help my embarrassment.

“Wolf, Peter. What an oaf I am! Look, if you need to refinish the table... have the rug cleaned, please, please don’t hesitate... bill me... be more than happy...”

Peter rescued me from my rambling monologue. “Dear Alex, stop fretting. A little furniture polish will get rid of the spot, and you wouldn’t believe some of the things that have spilled on that rug with no harm done. Now just shush! ”

“I think I really am bewitched! ’ I blurted.

“What? ” They chorused.

“This crazy old woman in a witch outfit stopped me outside the Rat the other day and screamed something about devils’ dens and demon rum, and then that things would reel and break. Scared poor Fargo half to death. And, idiotic as it is, ever since, I’ve been dropping things and walking into doors. I don’t believe in witchcraft but it’s maddening! ”

“Oh, my dear, ” Peter chortled delightedly. “Maybe she really was a witch. Dogs know! Now”—he turned to Wolf—“right after Halloween we’ll have a small party and do an exorcism. Won’t that be fun? ”

Wolf smiled and nodded and I took the opportunity to get out before we all sat down to make up the guest list. I went to the entryway, followed by the two men. “I really must go before I do further damage. Peter, I’ll get your socks back to you soon.”

“No rush, sweet girl, no rush. Forgive me for rushing, Alex.” He consulted a spot on his wrist where a watch should have been. He looked blank for a moment and then said, “Oh, I must have left it in the kitchen. Anyway, I’ve got a rehearsal shortly.” He called after me as Fargo and I reached the sidewalk. “Stop by the Crown tonight... around nine! ”

“I will, ” I called back, deciding that I really would. I had never seen his “little Judy Garland piece. ”I wondered if he would do it straight or, as he would say, camp it up.

Fargo and I made about fifty feet before the drizzle started yet again. I was quickly beyond feeling, and didn’t much care when it stopped once more. I took off my sodden cap, shook it out and held it in front of me to drip as I ran my other hand through my equally sodden hair.

“Paula, you will notice this poor woman is one of Provincetown’s sadder cases, a combination of drunkenness and paranoia.”

I recognized my brother’s voice, and looked around just as his hand reached out and dumped a bunch of coins into my extended cap. “You’ve been sleeping under the docks again, Alexandra. Now why don’t you go home to your poor mama and behave like the young lady you were raised to be? ”

I pocketed the coins and turned toward him. “Thankee, kind sir, for the money which I will spend on cheap whiskey, and for the good advice—for which—I—will—kill—you! ” I put my hands around his throat and began to shake him.

He was laughing too hard to fend me off successfully, but he did manage to gasp out, “The pastries! Don’t make me drop the pastries! ”

I let go of him and turned to Paula, who was working on a small, tight smile. I could hardly blame her. “I’ve heard so many nice things about you, Paula. It’s good to meet you at last.” I had to admit, she was super good looking! Blonde hair in a carefully careless cut, blue eyes and a figure that belonged on a fashion show runway. But her mouth, I thought, was the just teeniest bit hard and her eyes just a smidge close.

I put out my cold wet hand, which she took for a nanosecond and murmured something inaudible.

Sonny then took over. “Here, the car’s right here. Get in, Alex. And you, Fargo, poor boy. You both look like tornado victims.” He shooed us to his car and put us in the back seat. He and Paula got in front, and she turned partway around, graciously hobnobbing with the serfs.

“We were on our way to your place anyway, ” she said. “How very fortunate we found you when we did.” She sniffed and rolled her window down an inch. I had the uncomfortable feeling that my nose was running and reached into my coat for a packet of tissues. Instead, I pulled out a grubby sock, which I hastily shoved back, in the hope that no one had seen it. Unhappily, I noticed Paula’s eyebrows were just about up to her hairline. I thought of trying to explain and gave it up as impossible. Then I sniffed too, and it was inescapable... the unique and all-pervading aroma of parfum du wet dog.

The three-block drive lasted about an hour, and then Sonny was hustling us all into my house. “Come on, come on. I’ll rub Fargo down. Alex, go get a hot shower—now! You’re so cold you’re twitching and that’s not really good. Go! ”

I went. By the time I returned, miracles had taken place. Sonny—somehow I knew Paula had had no part in the activity— had made the dirty dishes disappear from the kitchen sink, made fresh coffee, and put a cloth on the dining room table, along with my good luncheon plates, cups and saucers. The platter of the pastries he had brought included my favorite French crullers and cranberry-walnut scones. Even Fargo was dry and shiny and already snoring lightly in his bed. I was impressed. I was also starved but made a desperate effort to mind my manners. I figured Sonny deserved it.

“Well, you look better, ” Sonny said. “You really were not in great shape. What on earth happened to you? ”

I told them. Sonny laughed and Paula tried to look interested. “Mary got you, too, did she? ” Sonny asked.

“That seems to be the standard reply whenever Mary Sloan is mentioned. A couple of years ago she trapped Frank Wolfman and sprained his ankle for him and left him to walk home. That also seems standard.” I pulled up the leg of my slacks to show my wounded shin.

“Ouch, ” Sonny winced.

Paula grimaced. “Ooh, grisly! Should you have someone look at that? ” Did people really go to doctors for scraped shins?

“Oh, I imagine she’ll make it, ” Sonny replied for me. “Yeah, Mary got Mitch last spring. She got the boat in the water by herself but then got her SUV stuck in the sand. Mitch happened to be driving by and stopped to help—in uniform, on duty. Instead of putting him in the cab and her pushing, she drove the SUV and Mitch was in back. They got her going and she took off like a jet— and just kept going. Left Mitch standing up to his ankles in water and looking like he’d been sprayed with stucco.”

“God, ” I sighed. “Mary Sloan is a real threat. Does she have a list of victims or just throw a dart at the phone book? ”

“I think it has something to do with chicken bones and the full of the moon.” Sonny tipped back in his chair. I hated it when he did that.

“Look, Alex, we really were coming over here. I wanted to tell you that we moved our vacation up. I managed to rearrange the tickets and hotel reservations.” He sounded slightly harried. “We’re going to fly to Boston late this afternoon with Cassie. Otherwise she’d be deadheading over to pick up a fare, so she gave us a good price. And we’ll fly down to Knoxville in the morning and rent a car to drive over to Gatlinburg.”

“Why the sudden change? ”

Paula looked at me earnestly across the table. “I really feel that Edward is so stressed out, it’s just imperative he get some relaxation right away. And I’m done in myself.” She gave a brave little smile. “I had to decorate a five-room model apartment in one of Daddy’s condos and it’s about finished me.” She sighed, and her head drooped piteously.

I was curious. “What’s got you so worn out, Son... ah, Edward? ”

Paula answered for him. “Well, first, there’s been that terrible arson case.”

I was startled. Fire was always a danger in Provincetown. Lots of old wooden buildings built close together, a hot blaze and a high wind could spell disaster. But arson? I looked at Sonny.

He looked back neutrally. “Liz Mason, ” he said succinctly.

Oh, I knew about that. Liz’s boyfriend kept a bunch of tools and fishing gear in her garage. It burned down, and she swore her ex-husband had set it.

“Ah, the Mason case, ” I nodded sagely. “It’ll be a long time before Provincetown forgets that conflagration! ”

Sonny glared.

“And that giant car-theft ring, ” Paula added.

Goodness, we were beginning to sound like Chicago in 1930. But I figured that one out myself. A few weeks back, a bunch of teenagers got beered up and made some sort of bet about who could hot-wire and joyride the most cars out to Race Point in a single night. They were perking right along, emptying out the town, when a cop noticed what seemed an awful lot of traffic for an October night.

I shook my head. “Yes, that was a mind-boggling challenge. Well, Edward, I can see why you need to get away. I take it you got the time off okay? ”

“Yes. Chief Franks will be available if needed. His wife is doing much better. They seem to have stabilized whatever was causing her irregular heartbeat. And Captain Anders is around. At least he looks like a cop, until you see the only paper on his desk is Barron’s. So yeah. It’s okay. Mitch will be able to handle things. He’s a lot smarter than he thinks he is, kind of a nice reversal nowadays. He just needs a little confidence.”

Sonny leaned across the table and handed me a three-by-five card. “This is where we’ll be—phone and room numbers are there, too. You are the only soul who has this, so don’t lose it. And do not give it to anyone unless you think something is really wrong. Mitch or Anders will want to call if somebody runs a red light. Mother will want to check on us if she hears a plane crashed in Argentina. Mary Sloan will call if her Santa Fe gets splashed. Don’t ruin the first real vacation I’ve had in years.”

“Don’t forget, Sonny, I won’t be here either.” I gave in and hooked a second cruller. “Not Monday through Wednesday, anyway. You sure you don’t want to leave it with Mom? You can trust her.”

“Nah, not for just three lousy days.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a really grand time, ” I said.

Paula placed her hand tenderly on Edward’s arm. “He just insisted that’s where we go. It sounds just a tiny bit touristy, but I’m sure the scenery is lovely.”

I took the last bite of my cruller and managed not to lick my fingers. “Well, I’m sure it is, too, and Edward tells me the crafts are quite beautiful. They fashion lovely pottery and hand-woven cloth. Not to mention old-time instruments like dulcimers, hand-carved just like they were nearly four hundred years ago.” Why did my conversation with Paula sound as stilted and Victorian as the Green Mansions dé cor?

“Yeah.” Sonny had no such problem. “That fascinates me. I read up on the area a little bit. Did you know there are some backwoods areas down there where the people still speak a sort of Elizabethan English dialect? ”

Paula slapped his hand playfully. “Oh, Edward, of course they speak English. I know it’s terribly—ah, rural—but even so, it’s still America down there.”

I did not look at Sonny. “I’d better let Fargo out.” I excused myself. By the time I got back, they had their coats on. Sonny wished me luck on my trip. I wished them fun on theirs. Sonny and I hugged. Paula favored me with another brief handshake and they left.

Fargo and I both made it to the couch before we fell asleep.

We awoke two hours later, and I at least was much refreshed. I let him out, filled his water dish, filled his dry food dish and started frying some bacon. He had two slices, plain. I had two BLTs with extra mayo, thanks, and it was time to begin my evening.

The fatigues now fit reasonably well, and after some moments of panic I found the little raccoon mask in a file drawer. I began to explain to Fargo why he had to stay at home tonight. He explained fervently to me why that should not be so. This time I won.

The players were now all in their places in our little microcosm of the world’s stage, ready for their entrances and exits, and some in their time to play many parts.

I put on my cap and went out.