Chapter Twenty: In Disguise
“Crumbs, crumbs, and more crumbs!” I said in my whiskey voice. “What’s a mob moll grandma to do?” I asked myself.
I leaned a hip against the counter, crossed my arms, and thought. I needed a car, preferably a big, fancy, black SUV with tinted windows and rental car plates. Hah! Bingo! I went to the
phone and dialed Didi’s number. Didi answered the phone in her usual dulcet tones.
“Hello?”
“Hi! You know that Lexus SUV with the tinted windows that Pip rented to drive you two around in while you’re here visiting? I’m borrowing it. Are the keys in it?” I asked. “I’m doing a
little sleuthing.”
“No, no, no, and absolutely not!” cried Didi.
“Didi! This is absolutely imperative. Without it I’m sunk!”
“No!”
“I’ve put all my effort into this. I’m hot on the trail of Brucie’s killer. I’m in disguise. This one is
better than Nanny Boyle, the nun costume, and the maid costume combined. It’s going to blow you out of the water. What do you say?”
“Not unless I get to go with you and take pictures.”
“No pictures! I’m not letting myself in for blackmail! Where’s Pip?”
“He is at the country club for the men’s spring charity luncheon.”
“Good, I’ll be over in five minutes. But you can’t tell anyone, not even Pip, unless you want us both to end up at the bottom of Lake Michigan in cement water wings.”
“I promise.”
“Solemn blood sister promise from 1966?”
“Solemn blood sister promise!”
Five minutes later, I walked across the street and rang Didi’s doorbell. She answered the door, took one look at me, and slammed the door shut.
“Hey! Didi! It’s me!” I cried. The door opened slowly and one of Didi’s huge violet eyes appeared and gave me the once over.
“Are you sure that’s really you in there?” she asked. I gave her a swagger and a shoulder roll.
“Whaddaya think? It ain’t Mary Poppins, honey,” I said in my whiskey voice. “Now get outta there before I call my associates and they make you disappear. They’ll make you an offer you can’t
refuse.” The door opened and the rest of Didi appeared.
“Good God! You scared the bejesus out of me!” she said. “Did you join the mob or what? Is that real fur you’re wearing? Tabby wouldn’t like it, you know.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a fake, like everything else about me.” I unbuttoned my fake fur coat, opened it, and gave her the full effect. Her violet eyes opened wide as she took in the full glory of my transformation.
“Where did you get those boobs?” she asked and peered at my chest. “Are those real? And how come your skin is so dark? And what is with all the glitter, the gold, and the diamonds? You never wear all black except to a funeral, and that dress is way too sexy for funerals, and way too sexy for your age, if I may say so. Ditto for the black stockings and the thigh high boots. And where did you get those outsize Jackie Kennedy sunglasses? Take them off so I can see your eyes. That’s better. Did Stan ever see you in this getup? He wouldn’t let you out of the house in that outfit. In fact, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Who put your makeup on? Somebody from a Las Vegas brothel? And what’s with that Cleopatra wig? Are those false eyelashes or your real ones with fifty coats of mascara? And are those fake lips? Did you have them botoxed? You never wear fake nails, or even nail polish, and those nails are at least an inch long, red, and with glittery gold stars to boot. Did you have them done or are they stick-ons?”
“Didi, I just used what nature gave me, added a little artifice, and just accentuated the positive, baby,” I said in my whiskey voice. Didi squinted at me.
“A little artifice? I’m having a hard time believing that this is really you. If those
boobs of yours get any more accentuated we’re going to have to call in the
National Guard. Those things are lethal weapons! Seriously, how far do you have
them pushed up? A foot? Are you supposed to be a drag queen or something? Is
that a real Louis Vuitton handbag or is it a knockoff?”
“Be serious! I’m a Chicago mob moll grandma enforcer about to capture Brucie’s killer,” I said in my own voice. And then I added in my acting voice, “And I’m freezin’ my ass off out here, so ya wanna let me in before I pull out my Glock and fill ya full ‘a’ holes?”
“A Glock? You better get in here and explain this to me before someone drives down the street and thinks I’m
involved in some kind of prostitution ring for old people. If Donna Peaselee
sees you standing on my doorstep I’ll never be able to hold my head up at the
country club again. I’ll be banned from the tennis court, the pool, the golf
course, and every charity I belong to.” I stepped into the
foyer.
“Prima Donna Peaselee should sleep with the fishes, baby,” I said. “You want I should
bust a cap up her….”
“Rhiannon Mary Kathleen Nolan! You are getting way too comfortable in this persona!” cried Didi. “Now drop the
act and tell me what is going on.”
“Crumbs, crumbs, and more crumbs!” I said in my whiskey voice. “What’s a mob moll grandma to do?” I asked myself.
I leaned a hip against the counter, crossed my arms, and thought. I needed a car, preferably a big, fancy, black SUV with tinted windows and rental car plates. Hah! Bingo! I went to the
phone and dialed Didi’s number. Didi answered the phone in her usual dulcet tones.
“Hello?”
“Hi! You know that Lexus SUV with the tinted windows that Pip rented to drive you two around in while you’re here visiting? I’m borrowing it. Are the keys in it?” I asked. “I’m doing a
little sleuthing.”
“No, no, no, and absolutely not!” cried Didi.
“Didi! This is absolutely imperative. Without it I’m sunk!”
“No!”
“I’ve put all my effort into this. I’m hot on the trail of Brucie’s killer. I’m in disguise. This one is
better than Nanny Boyle, the nun costume, and the maid costume combined. It’s going to blow you out of the water. What do you say?”
“Not unless I get to go with you and take pictures.”
“No pictures! I’m not letting myself in for blackmail! Where’s Pip?”
“He is at the country club for the men’s spring charity luncheon.”
“Good, I’ll be over in five minutes. But you can’t tell anyone, not even Pip, unless you want us both to end up at the bottom of Lake Michigan in cement water wings.”
“I promise.”
“Solemn blood sister promise from 1966?”
“Solemn blood sister promise!”
Five minutes later, I walked across the street and rang Didi’s doorbell. She answered the door, took one look at me, and slammed the door shut.
“Hey! Didi! It’s me!” I cried. The door opened slowly and one of Didi’s huge violet eyes appeared and gave me the once over.
“Are you sure that’s really you in there?” she asked. I gave her a swagger and a shoulder roll.
“Whaddaya think? It ain’t Mary Poppins, honey,” I said in my whiskey voice. “Now get outta there before I call my associates and they make you disappear. They’ll make you an offer you can’t
refuse.” The door opened and the rest of Didi appeared.
“Good God! You scared the bejesus out of me!” she said. “Did you join the mob or what? Is that real fur you’re wearing? Tabby wouldn’t like it, you know.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a fake, like everything else about me.” I unbuttoned my fake fur coat, opened it, and gave her the full effect. Her violet eyes opened wide as she took in the full glory of my transformation.
“Where did you get those boobs?” she asked and peered at my chest. “Are those real? And how come your skin is so dark? And what is with all the glitter, the gold, and the diamonds? You never wear all black except to a funeral, and that dress is way too sexy for funerals, and way too sexy for your age, if I may say so. Ditto for the black stockings and the thigh high boots. And where did you get those outsize Jackie Kennedy sunglasses? Take them off so I can see your eyes. That’s better. Did Stan ever see you in this getup? He wouldn’t let you out of the house in that outfit. In fact, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Who put your makeup on? Somebody from a Las Vegas brothel? And what’s with that Cleopatra wig? Are those false eyelashes or your real ones with fifty coats of mascara? And are those fake lips? Did you have them botoxed? You never wear fake nails, or even nail polish, and those nails are at least an inch long, red, and with glittery gold stars to boot. Did you have them done or are they stick-ons?”
“Didi, I just used what nature gave me, added a little artifice, and just accentuated the positive, baby,” I said in my whiskey voice. Didi squinted at me.
“A little artifice? I’m having a hard time believing that this is really you. If those
boobs of yours get any more accentuated we’re going to have to call in the
National Guard. Those things are lethal weapons! Seriously, how far do you have
them pushed up? A foot? Are you supposed to be a drag queen or something? Is
that a real Louis Vuitton handbag or is it a knockoff?”
“Be serious! I’m a Chicago mob moll grandma enforcer about to capture Brucie’s killer,” I said in my own voice. And then I added in my acting voice, “And I’m freezin’ my ass off out here, so ya wanna let me in before I pull out my Glock and fill ya full ‘a’ holes?”
“A Glock? You better get in here and explain this to me before someone drives down the street and thinks I’m
involved in some kind of prostitution ring for old people. If Donna Peaselee
sees you standing on my doorstep I’ll never be able to hold my head up at the
country club again. I’ll be banned from the tennis court, the pool, the golf
course, and every charity I belong to.” I stepped into the
foyer.
“Prima Donna Peaselee should sleep with the fishes, baby,” I said. “You want I should
bust a cap up her….”
“Rhiannon Mary Kathleen Nolan! You are getting way too comfortable in this persona!” cried Didi. “Now drop the
act and tell me what is going on.”