Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN I WALKED IN, my mother and grandmother were in the kitchen, staring at the casserole dishes on the kitchen counters. They looked relieved when they saw me.

“Thank heavens it’s you,” my mother said. “We heard the door open and were worried that it was someone with more food.”

“We’ve run out of refrigerator space,” Grandma said. “We got seven dishes of lasagna, twelve cakes, at least ten pounds of potato salad, and that’s just the beginning.”

“It’s for the wake,” my mother said. “I don’t even know half the people who dropped this stuff off. We’re going to have to rent a truck to get it to the Mole Hole.”

I lifted the lid on one of the casseroles. “This looks good. Do you mind if I have some for lunch?”

“Take what you want,” my mother said.

“I’m going to dig in too,” Grandma said. “It’s not just for the wake. It’s to help us through our time of bereavement.”

I loaded up with mac and cheese, fried chicken, kielbasa, and a bunch of mini hot dogs wrapped in mini rolls.

“The funeral is at nine o’clock tomorrow,” my mother said, sitting across from me at the kitchen table. “The funeral home is sending a car for us at eight-thirty. Your sister isn’t going. Everyone in her house has the flu. So, there will be room for you in the car.”

If I’d known about Valerie and the flu I would have gone over a couple days ago and gotten infected. I’d take the flu over the funeral any day of the week.

“I might be going with Morelli,” I said.

“He can ride in the car too,” Grandma said. “It’s a big car. It’s a limo. Not every day you get to ride in a limo. And you’ll get to sit up front at the church. They’re reserving a front row pew for us. It’s a shame Jimmy isn’t here. He would have liked riding in the limo.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“There’s times when it’s quiet at night, and I wonder about him. And I hope he’s okay,” Grandma said. “I guess he did some bad things, so it’s a crapshoot if he got into heaven.” She pushed some macaroni salad around on her plate. “Truth is I’ll be relieved when all this is over, and I can move on to what’s in front of me instead of what’s behind me. It’s not like I want to forget Jimmy. It’s just that he’s in a different spot in my life now. He’s in the good memories spot. If I didn’t put him there, I’d be sad all the time, and I don’t like being sad. I figure happiness is a choice that you make. Even in terrible times.” Grandma slumped a little. “Sometimes you really gotta work at it.”

So, here’s Grandma Mazur with hot pink lipstick and flame red hair, dressing up like the Queen of England, appropriating a ten-pound rump roast from the bingo hall . . . and it turns out she’s brilliant. She has a life philosophy. She can articulate it. She consciously tries to live by it. Happiness is a choice that you make. Wow.

“That’s great, Grandma,” I said. “Good for you.”

“I got a strong sense of self-preservation,” Grandma said. “You got it too. It’s from our Hungarian farm stock. ’Course there’s also some Gypsy in us, and it’s best not to talk about those tendencies. The Gypsies were a little loosey-goosey, if you know what I mean.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

“I ran into one of the Mole Hole back room boys today,” I said. “It seems Jimmy had some keys, and now they’re missing.”

“Yep. He was Keeper of the Keys,” Grandma said. “It was a big honor.”

“Did you ever see the keys?”

“No. He said they were in a safe place.”

“Did he say where that safe place was?”

“No, but I know he always kept them close to him in case he needed one.”

“Did he say what the keys opened?”

“No,” Grandma said. “I didn’t care about it at the time, but now that it’s a big deal I wish I knew. Everybody is talking about it.”

“The La-Z-Boys think you have them.”

“Why would they think I have them?”

“You were with Jimmy when he . . . you know.”

“Died?”

“Yes. They think he passed the keys on to you in his last moments.”

“There were no last moments,” Grandma said. “He didn’t pass nothing on.”

“Is it possible that you have them and don’t know you have them?”

“I guess,” Grandma said. “I’ll keep my eyes open, but seems to me I’d have seen them by now.”

This was a big bummer. Life would be so much better if Grandma had been able to give me the keys.

“I don’t like this business with the keys,” my mother said. “Who knows what those old men will do to get them back? They’re all gangsters.” She shook her finger at Grandma. “You should have known better than to get mixed up with one of them.”

“It seemed like a good idea when he was alive. He had a lot of money and almost all of his teeth. He was a real good dancer. He never said anything about having a bad heart. And he told me he was retired.”

I finished my mac and cheese and stood. “I have to get back to work.”

“Who are you after today?” Grandma asked. “A killer or a rapist?”

“Charlie Shine. Rumor has it he came back for Jimmy’s funeral.”

“He’s probably with his honey,” Grandma said.

I turned to Grandma. “You know about that?”

“Everybody knows about that,” Grandma said. “Loretta would have divorced him if it wasn’t for the honey. This way Loretta gets to keep the house, but she doesn’t have to put up with Charlie. He’s a bit of a drinker.”

“I have your laundry all done,” my mother said. “I had to throw some of it away. What’s left is in the basket by the front door.”

—

I stowed my laundry basket in the trunk and drove to the office. Going with Grandma’s words of wisdom that happiness is a choice, I thought I might choose to keep driving until I got to California. Or at least Colorado. I was deterred by the fact that I was driving a ’53 Buick, and I’d run out of gas money before I got to Ohio.

I parked at the curb and joined Connie and Lula in the office. Connie was touching up a chipped nail, and Lula was napping on the couch. Vinnie was nowhere.

“I have a problem,” I said. “The La-Z-Boys think Grandma has the keys, but she doesn’t have them.”

“Have you explained this to them?” Connie asked.

“Yes, but they didn’t completely buy it. I’ll try again tomorrow. Out of respect for Jimmy they aren’t going to rough Grandma up until after the funeral.”

“Those keys must be real important for them to want to pull the fingernails off a nice old lady like Grandma,” Lula said.

“You have connections,” I said to Connie. “Can you find out what this is all about?”

“My only La-Z-Boy connection is dead,” Connie said, “but I’ll ask around.”

“It’s gonna be interesting to see who gets Jimmy’s chair,” Lula said. “Anybody would want a La-Z-Boy. I sat in one of them, and I never wanted to get up. You could put your feet up and everything.”

“Are you going to the funeral?” I asked Connie.

Connie nodded. “I have to take my mother. It’s like the event of the century.”

“I can see that,” Lula said. “Not every day you get to go to a wake in a titty bar.”

“I was thinking about putting some bullets in my gun,” I said. “Ranger gave me some.”

“I have a salon appointment to get glamorized for my date tonight,” Lula said. “You could come with me and get pink streaks in your hair or magenta eyelash extensions. It could be the first step on the road to the new you.”

—

It was almost six o’clock when Lula and I left the salon. Lula had silver glitter on her eyelids and her hair was fluffed up into a huge pink puffball. I had a bunch of metallic midnight blue extensions in my hair.