Contact: norsebarddk@gmail.com
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DISCLAIMERS:
This story is an Uber/original. All characters are created by me though some of them may remind you of someone.
This story depicts a loving relationship between consenting adult women. If such a story frightens you, you better click on the X in the top-right corner and find something else to read.
All characters depicted, names used, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons is intended nor should be inferred. Any resemblance of the characters portrayed to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
The registered trademarks mentioned in this story are © of their respective owners. No infringement of their rights is intended, and no profit is gained.
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NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR:
Written: June 12th - 22nd, 2018
- Thank you very much for your help, Phineas Redux :D
- If you're interested in reading more about Regina Harrison and Stella Starr, you can find all their old adventures at the Royal Academy of Bards in the anthologies, "The Harrison-Starr Detective Agency," "News from the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency," "From the Files of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency," and "Last Words from the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency." The Academy also hosts the 'single' "Flea Market Flicker" written for the 2017 April Fools' Special.
- And if you're interested in reading about how Debbie Schwartz and Samantha Welles met, look for the story "Four And A Half Steps To Heaven" which is available at the Royal Academy of Bards on their 2013 Valentine's Day page.
As usual, I'd like to say a great, big THANK YOU to my mates at AUSXIP Talking Xena, especially to the gals and guys in Subtext Central. I really appreciate your support - Thanks, everybody! :D
Description: After a busy couple of weeks fighting crime and wrestling the Paperwork Monster, Regina Harrison and Stella Starr - the intrepid investigators of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency - take a much-needed day off. They spend it at the beach playing bingo… how can that possibly lead to trouble? The unpredictable, unstoppable, undaunted and uncombed P.I.s once more go all out to bring the crooks to justice through their trademark zany disguises and over-the-top chases. In short, it's business as usual for Reggie and Stella…
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CHAPTER 1
Traffic on one of the busiest streets of the grand city by the silvery bay came to a grinding halt when every driver stuck her or his head out of the window to find out where the awful noises that swept over them came from - they were similar to rolling thunder, but the sky was clear and blue in all directions.
The noisy assault seemed to originate somewhere in the commercial district that was home to a large number of small businesses; a reconnaissance mission conducted by a brave Special Forces soldier home on weekend-leave proved that the ungodly barrage came from a low, gray building across the lot from a mechanic's shop.
Two mismatched cars - a chocolate-brown AMC Pacer and a silver-metallic Mercedes SLK - were parked in front of the building, but they were the only signs of human life. It wasn't until the brave soldier peeked through one of the windows of the gray building that the mystery was solved: a late-thirty-something, mop-topped, bespectacled, loose-limbed woman dressed in blue jeans and a loud Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt was sprawled all over a chair. With her head leaned back in slumber, her jaw had turned slack which allowed free passage of the thunder-like noises.
The uniformed man moved away from the window and returned to the street to brief the people nearest to him - he rolled his eyes every step of the way.
Inside the offices of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency, senior investigator Stella Starr was engaged in the pleasurable activity known as taking a much-deserved nap. The lengthy battle against the feared monster that inhabited her work desk - a.k.a. writing up the paperwork created by their recent cases - had been a bloody one: nasty, stinging paper cuts had forced her to wrap no less than three band-aids on various fingers, and she even had one on the tip of her nose. The razor-sharp claws of the Paper Monster had given her the unfortunate nose-wound when she had lost her temper and had bitten down on a wad of files. Following that, she had succumbed to the fatigue and had decided to give her weary bones the rest they so richly deserved.
Had the Special Forces soldier looked a little to his right, he would have spotted the other member of the Harrison-Starr partnership sitting at a second desk: the mid-forty-something, retired, then un-retired supermodel Regina Harrison whose endless legs rested on the corner of the desk. The tall, graceful woman wore a breezy, maroon summer suit consisting of a wrap-around top and Capris that left a good view of her tanned ankles and bare feet. She had just finished painting her toenails in Red & Golden Sparkles by Wow!Factor/X - a company she had modeled for - and was waving her twinkletoes back and forth to get the quick-drying polish to dry even quicker.
She didn't seem bothered by the relentless onslaught of Stella's snoring though the office shook all around her. The reason was revealed soon after when she leaned back in her swivel-chair and flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. After it had landed in a perfect cascade - she would have been on the brink of hysteria if it hadn't - a pair of stylish, white earphones came into view. Snuggling down in the chair, she turned up the volume a notch further and allowed the dulcet tones of the audio book's narrator to entertain her.
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Half an hour later, their telephones rang. Regina looked over her shoulder at her employer, dear friend and latterly sweetheart in the hope she would pick it up, but the mop-topped Stella was still traipsing through dreamland. Shrugging, Regina paused the audio book to pick up the old-fashioned land-line receiver. "You have reached the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency. This is investigator Regina Harrison speaking. How may we help you?" she said as she grabbed a pencil and a notepad so she would be ready to jot down any information given to her.
'Uh… hello… my name is Aaron Finkelstein. I'm calling from the Family Bingo Group, and I… what on earth is that awful noise in the background?' a male voice said at the other end of the connection.
Chuckling, Regina cast a glance at Stella's slack-jawed sprawling. The woman with the shaggy mop of dirty-blond hair had a goofy grin on her relaxed face like she was in the middle of a particularly enjoyable dream. "We're having the office renovated, Mr. Finkelstein. The carpenters are just finishing up as we speak."
'It sounds more like a metal grinding tool to me… anyway, I would like to speak with Miss Stella Starr if I can.'
"Oooookay," Regina said; as she spoke, she tore off a piece of paper from her notepad, crumpled it up and threw it at Stella. It prompted no reaction from the sleeping woman. "Just a moment, Mr. Finkelstein. I'll see what I can do," she said and moved down her long legs.
'Uh… all right. I'll hold.'
Regina grimaced as her bare feet sunk into the plush carpet they had bought some years back at a Chapter Eleven-sale. The synthetic fibers threatened to smear her newly applied nail polish, so she hop-hop-hopped over to the other desk only using her heels to walk on which looked odd for someone who had a six-foot-one frame.
"Stella… Stella… Stell-lla… Stell!" Regina said whiled she poked, nudged, prodded, shook, and flat-out thumped the other investigator on the shoulder.
ZZZzzzzz…
"Stella, dahling…?"
ZZZzzzzz…
"Stell! Telephone!"
Zzz… smacking-of-lips, smacking-of-lips… ZZZZZzzzz…
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud… Stella!"
Smacking-of-lips, snuggle-snuggle, smacking-of-lips. Zzzzz-ZZZzzzzz…
Having exhausted all the regular options, Regina leaned down and wrapped her luscious lips around the similar set belonging to the sleeping woman. A few seconds went by before the drowsy Stella Starr came to; when she did, a cheesy grin spread over her features.
"Mmmm-mornin', Katey-baby," the senior investigator mumbled, grinning like she had just won the biggest jackpot known to mankind.
Regina's left eyebrow crept up her elegant forehead while the corners of her mouth went in the other direction. It was obvious she needed to have A Serious Word with Stella Starr regarding her Netkixx binging sessions of all things Kate Marshall, but it would have to be later. "Stell-lla…?" she whispered, using her long fingers to close in on an unprotected slice of her partner's midsection as a last resort.
"Mmmm-yeah?"
"Telephone!" Regina growled, whipping the spare receiver off the phone on Stella's desk and thrusting it into her idle hands.
Stella yawned, smacked her lips and snuggled down a little more before she wrapped her fingers around the telephone. "Mmmm-okay," she mumbled though she never opened her eyes. "Hello? Katey-baby, zat you?"
'Ah… that would be a 'no,' Miss Starr…' a male voice said at the other end of the connection.
Stella's eyelids flew open to reveal a pair of confused green orbs behind the thick lenses. She narrowed her eyes at once to shoot Regina a dark look, but the brief flash of green fire was doused by the wagging of a pink tongue belonging to a certain, tall model.
Instead of escalating the conflict further, Stella grappled around for a pencil and a notepad. "I see… good morning-" - A quick glance at the wall-mounted clock proved she couldn't use that particular phrase - "Beg' pardon, good afternoon, Mister…?"
'Aaron Finkelstein, from the Family Bingo Group… is this Miss Starr?'
"Yep. This is Stella Starr, senior investigator of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency. How may I help you?"
'Well, I really only called to say-'
"Ooooooh! I love you?" Stella said, letting out a long, melodic snicker as the old Stevie Wonder-song rolled around in her mind. It caused Regina to shoot her a look that was just as dark as the one that had gone the other way a scant minute earlier. "Is this WKMK Hit Radio? Did I win? Huh? Huh? Did I win? This is WKMK Hit Radio, right? Aw, I listen to you guys all the time! I love your name-the-hit contest!"
'Ah… again, that would be a 'no' to all of the above, Miss Starr…'
The grin on Stella's face was wiped off like someone had flicked a switch. "Oh. Rats. Go on," she said, rearranging several items on her desk so she wouldn't have to look Regina in the eye. She looked up anyway and was rewarded with a wink and a broad grin that was responded to in kind.
'But you have in fact won a competition. Two complimentary tickets for the Family Bingo Group's famed Beach Bingo Bonanza tomorrow afternoon down by the bay.'
"Wa-hey!" Stella said, punching the air in delight. "That's almost as good as the Cub Scouts' cook-out me and Reggie went to the other week!"
'Ah… that's good, Miss Starr…'
Stella suddenly connected the dots and cast her mind back to a website she had visited earlier in the week. She had been surfing the Internet at random while bored out of her skull, and she had come across an online bingo game that was so much fun she had decided to enter the site's questionnaire contest though she usually hated those things. "Ohhh… right. The Family Bingo Group!"
'That's right.'
"Neat! So… if the big event's tomorrow, how will we get the complimentary tickets in time? Through a courier service?" she said, waving a great, big thumbs-up at Regina who could only shrug in return.
'No. All you need to do is to go to our website and enter the secret code. That will give you access to the members-only section and allow you to print out the complimentary tickets yourself.'
"Aw, that's so neat! Okie-dokie, and the secret code is…?" Stella said, readying her trusty, old pencil.
'You'll need to type in A-B-F-C-'
"A-B-F-C-"
'R-W-E-R-D-H-U-I-'
"Holy guacamole… R-W-E-R-D-"
'O-P-'
"Hold it, hold it, hold it! I can't keep up! My pencil's smokin' already!" Stella cried, trying to jot down the letters before she would forget them. "Uh… uh… A-B-C-F… no, A-B-F-C-R-W-E…'
'R-D-H-U-I-M-N-U-Q-9. All uppercase letters. Well, save for the nine which is the number and not spelled out. Did you get that?'
Stella blinked several times as she stared at the gobbledygook she had put down on the notepad's once so pristine page. "No," was her simple answer.
'Ah… all right. I'll start over…'
Grimacing, Stella tore off the page and readied her pencil all over again. This time, she stuck her tongue between her lips so she would stay on top of all the terrible, terrible letters needed for the secret code.
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The pile of seven pieces of crumpled-up paper - not to mention the seven fire-engine red blotches on Stella's cheeks and forehead - proved that getting the letters right had been a difficult affair. So difficult in fact that Regina had needed to take over before the imminent nuclear detonation inside the Harrison-Starr offices would disturb the finely calibrated seismographic sensors at the North Bay University.
Regina said goodbye to Aaron Finkelstein before she put down the receiver. Accessing the Internet on her smartphone, she soon found the correct field on the correct website and entered the correct access code with very little drama. Not a minute later, the wireless connection between her telephone and their printer prompted a sheet featuring a pair of shiny, new complimentary tickets to be ejected into the exit-tray. "And there you have 'em, Stell," she said as she hop-hop-hopped over to the other desk to present the piece of paper to the still-fuming Stella Starr.
"Thanks, Reggie… you're my friend… my best friend… durn, my only friend in a world of pain and suffering," Stella grumbled, adjusting her glasses. She chewed hard on her lips before she took several deep breaths to get the lava inside her veins to die down enough to enjoy the prize she had won.
"We've been working awfully hard these past few weeks… maybe it'll do us good to have a day off," Regina said as she sat down on her swivel-chair. She cast a concerned glance at the red shade of Stella's face before she snuggled down. Her endless legs were soon back resting on the corner of the desk so the nail polish could continue to harden without all the hassle it had been exposed to.
Over at the other desk, Stella did the opposite of Regina's actions and got up from her chair. "Boy, ain't that the truth… and bingo is fun. I love bingo… it's so relaxing." Shuffling over to the small wash basin with an integrated table just inside the door, she drained the last of the cold coffee from the pot, rinsed the glass container, put fresh water and beans into the percolator and finally hit the On-button. As the machine began to hum and burble, she leaned against the table and crossed her arms over Spongebob.
A mumbled comment sounding suspiciously like "You would…" came from the general vicinity of Regina Harrison, but it was tempered by one of the model's patented two-hundred watt smiles that managed to negate any - or at least most of the - negativity associated with the statement.
Stella replied by sticking out her tongue and flashing a hand signal that could not be misinterpreted. "Ha! Ha! And another ha! Well, excuse me, Miss I-Have-So-Many-Weird-Tastes-I-Can't-Even-Begin-To-Describe-Em-All!"
"Awww… and there I was, thinking you liked my taste…?" Regina said, shooting her partner a saucy wink.
"Weeeellll… I do," Stella said and broke out in a snicker. Adjusting her glasses all over again, she was soon back down to business. "But don't change the subject! You and all your creepy horror movies and your loud, violent video games and your… your… why can't you watch comedies and play tic-tac-toe like all normal grown-ups? Why does it have to be so… so… so… ugh! Can you tell me that? Huh?"
" 'Cos I love it like that. That's why," Regina said without taking her eyes off her smartphone.
Stella realized there was nothing she could say to counter that, so she turned back to the percolator that chose that very moment to send out an electronic ding. "Coffee's ready. You want some, Reggie?"
"Not right now, thanks."
"Okie-dokie," Stella said and took the glass container out of the percolator. After pouring herself a large mug of black coffee, she shuffled back to her desk and shoved aside a long section of the Paper Monster's tail to have room for the mug.
Sitting down, she took the print-out and studied the two complimentary tickets. A grin spread over her face as she read the details. The grin didn't even fade when she reached the fine print at the bottom that always had the potential for giving her a bad case of heartburn.
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A little later on, the Paper Monster had once again claimed the desk as its own. The phones had remained silent since the fun call, so Regina had returned to her audio book and Stella was teetering on the edge of falling asleep all over again. "Naw," the mop-topped investigator said, smacking her lips. "Gotta stay awake for tonight's job… Reggie, are you ready for the- Reggie? Reggie? Regg-ggie?"
Giving her associate a closer inspection, she could see the white earphones once more gracing the sculpted ears. "Now isn't that typical? The goddesses of the world never have any time for us regular women," she grumbled, pulling her laptop closer to her instead.
She soon found herself on the website where she had entered the contest. The Beach Bingo Bonanza looked to be a fun event, and she clicked around the Family Bingo Group's site to get a feel for the whole thing. "Oooooh, look at those awesome prizes!" she mumbled as she found one of the galleries. She pressed her nose against the flat screen to take in the colorful images. There seemed to be something for everyone there - they even had an original Rubik's Cube although that particular prize was placed in the kids' category for some inexplicable reason. "Awesomesauce with little chocolate sprinkles on top! Oh, we're gonna have a fun, quiet, peaceful, serene, relaxing day enjoying some old-school bingo'ing… yeah."
After exploring the Family Bingo Group website a bit more, she returned to the search engine. Once at the familiar page, she noticed a second company organizing bingo events at the beach along the bay that had given the city its name. "Huh," she said, clicking on the other link to see what that was all about. She furrowed her brow as she skimmed the new page. Everything seemed very familiar, even down to the name, 'Fun With Bingo Group,' the design of the artwork used and the prizes offered.
To be on the safe side, she picked up the complimentary tickets and checked them against the new info on the page. The company name was from the first one she had looked at, not the second one, but it left her brow furrowed. "Hmmm… competing bingo-ists. What is the world coming to?" she said, putting down the print-outs.
Before she could process the thoughts further, their telephones rang again. With Regina busy listening to her audio book, it was left to Stella to pick up the receiver. Before she did so, she pulled out the drawer that held the information sheet that kept track of 'People asking for Mr. Harrison Bleepin' Starr.'
"You've reached the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency," Stella said, pinning down the receiver between her cheek and her shoulder to keep her hands free to draw a big, black line on the info sheet if she needed to - if the caller asked for the non-existent Mr. Harrison Starr, he or she would be the forty-ninth person to get it wrong. "How may we… oh… if it isn't the all-important Mister Steve Big-Shot Darrian. Have you deflowered any virginal models lately?" she continued; her voice turned frosty toward the end of the sentence.
Mumble, mumble…
"No, that's Starr. Stella Starr. Not Stella Jar," she growled, slamming the drawer shut with a fat thump.
Mumble, mumble.
"Yeah. Common mistake, Stevie-boy," Stella said, mouthing obscenities at Regina's old and new boss. Years after Regina and Steve Darrian's glory days as the number one glamour couple of the international modeling world had come to an end, they had once again joined forces in a new agency that Steve had set up after his own career on the runway had dried up. When Regina had come out of retirement after being featured on the cover of the Swimsuit Illustrated magazine, he had become the manager of her resurrected career and had scored her several lucrative modeling jobs in the months that followed. That he and Regina had also been lovers back in the day was something that didn't sit too well with Stella, but at least she was the one who had Regina's undivided affection now.
Mumble, mumble?
"Yeah, I kinda figured you'd want to speak to Reggie," Stella said and leaned back in the chair. She happened to glance up at the plaque on the wall that said 'Our motto is: If you're not satisfied with our services, you can kiss our…' - "Y'know, I don't think she has time for you right now, Stevie-boy."
Mumble…
"Nah. She's very busy."
Mumble, mumble. Mumble, mumble.
Bolting upright, Stella needed to grab hold of the edge of the desk in order to remain on the chair. She stared straight ahead without seeing much as her brain tried to process the staggering sum of money Steve Darrian had just mentioned. "How… much…?" she croaked into the telephone.
Mumble, mumble.
"Twenty… five… thousand… dollars… for a… for a week-long photo shoot? I mean… that's just obscene… obscene and ree-dee-cue-luss…"
Mumble, mumble.
"Yeah, yeah… you're an oh-so-clever businessman, I know."
Mumb-
"All right, all right, don't get your undies in a wad, Mister Steve Darrian! I'll get her right away," Stella said and rose from her chair to pull Regina Harrison back to the real world.
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Once Regina had put down the telephone, a broad, two-hundred watt grin spread over her elegant features. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, it landed down her back in a perfect cascade. "I'm going to Paris next week!" she said while pressing her hands against her ample bosom in an approximation of a Gallic gesture.
"That'll be Paris, Texas?"
"Nope! Paris, France. The love capital of the world!"
The mention of the L-word made Stella's lips curl up into a sour grimace; she trusted Regina with all her heart, but she knew too well from her brief run-ins with Steve that he was one hell of a super-slick operator. "Whoop-di-do. And you're going with Mister Chiseled Jaw Steve Darrian," she grumbled.
"Oui!"
"Oh no! I'm not going anywhere with Stevie-boy!" Stella growled, thumping her fist onto the desk top.
Regina briefly narrowed her eyes before she figured out what Stella had thought she had said. "No no… 'oui' is French. It means yes!" she said with a grin.
"No but yes? You've lost me… the only French I know is croy-sant. Well, that and Ren-oh 'cos AMC worked with Ren-oh for a while. You know, Ren-oh the car maker?"
"Now you've lost me too… Stella, I'm going to Paris with Steve next week," Regina said and flicked her hair all over again just because she could. "A photo shoot in an exclusive studio and on the streets by the Eiffel Tower."
The muscles in Stella's jaw worked overtime as she snatched a ball point pen. Plenty of fire had built up inside her from speaking with Steve, and what better way to use it than to wrestle hard with the Paper Monster. She pulled a few case files closer to her and flipped them open at once. "Great. I'm happy for you," she said after a brief flurry of writing, signing and thumping her fist onto the desk top when the monster got too frisky with her.
Regina understood the problem, so she slithered closer to Stella's desk and leaned a buttock against the only section that wasn't overloaded with files. "Stell, you don't have to be concerned. Steve's a pretty decent guy these days."
Stella let out a whinny-like noise that proved she had a hard time believing that.
"He knows and respects what you and I share. Even beyond that, he's bringing his entire roster of models so he'll have his hands full-"
An even louder whinny cut through the air.
"Bad choice of words," Regina said with a wink. "He'll have plenty to do to keep him occupied… it's a pretty big shoot for a couple of pretty big companies. Clothing and jewelry."
"Mmmm… maybe so. But he'll never get on my Christmas card list…" Stella mumbled, concentrating on the paperwork.
"And you'll never get on his."
"Good!"
Chuckling, Regina hopped off the edge of the desk and slithered into the center of the office. She was soon dancing to a silent beat as she went through her favorite 'too cool for words' posing routine. As always, it ended with her sticking her pinkie into her mouth and shooting the mop-topped investigator such a sizzling gaze it was a marvel the lenses didn't blow out of Stella's spectacles.
"Yeah, yeah… you still got it… you big stick of dynamite," Stella said, grinning from ear to ear at the delightful floor show.
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Late afternoon soon turned to early evening; then dusk fell which left everything bathed in a orange-bluish light that was Mother Nature's way of telling the hot, bright summer day that it needed to make way for the darkness of night.
The two intrepid gumshoes of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency had spent the last few hours hard at work preparing for the evening's assignment: Regina had worked herself through a nine-point exercise program on her stepping stone and subsequently a few different floor drills, and Stella had emptied two cans of Slurrpy Classic Cola and annihilated an entire nine-ounce pack of pretzels on her own.
At present, their roles were reversed with Regina sipping a can of Slurrpy Carbonated Mineral Water and Stella lifting weights. The twenty-pound plastic dumbbells used by the bespectacled investigator made her arms wobble like cooked spaghetti, and it was clear by her bright-red face, the bulging veins on her forehead and her wheezing breath that she was on the brink of a full-on cardiopulmonary collapse.
"Now… call me silly, Stell," Regina said around dabbing her lips on a napkin, "but I think it would actually be more effective if you put the rest of the sand back into the dumbbells. Those things can't weigh more than, oh… two pounds each like that."
"Shut… up…"
"Just offering you some friendly advice," Regina said, suppressing a grin.
"Don't… need… it… can't… you… see… I'm… dying… here?" Stella croaked. She was huffing, puffing, wheezing, moaning and groaning like a steam locomotive going uphill while the engineers were trying to plug a leak in the boiler. "Nine… ten… eleven… oh… all… you… goddesses… twelve… just… can't… can't… thir- thir- thirteen… I… can't… oh… four- fourteen… fif- teen… I'm… done. Oh, thank Gawd…"
Right on cue, the dumbbells were dropped from Stella's trembling hands. When they landed on the carpet, they hardly even made an impact on the deep, plush fabric. Even so, Stella needed to lean over and put her hands on her knees while she tried to regain her breath and stop her eyes from rolling around in her head like they weren't connected to anything inside.
"Uh-huh?" Regina said, cocking an eyebrow.
"Uh… huh!"
"Let's forget it."
"That sounds… like a great… idea, Regg… ggie!"
Chuckling, Regina put the half-full can of mineral water onto her desk and strolled off toward the door to the conference room at the back of the office; it was next to a row of metal filing cabinets that held all their case files and a few, extra goodies like their advanced surveillance equipment - and Stella's supposedly secret stash of Oreo's.
The recently-upgraded door had frosted panes and a handle made of brushed aluminum which gave it a classy look. The door had been made of wood earlier, but Stella had felt it necessary to introduce it to her fist after an unfortunate incident involving three of the toes on her right foot - the resulting dent had forced the change, much to the detriment of Stella's wallet.
Their comfy couch, the low coffee table and two potted plants completed the furniture in their office. Everything, save for Stella's new chair, had been bought second-hand when she had started the detective agency, but the craftsmanship was of such high quality the inevitable wear and tear had been kept to a minimum.
As Regina entered the conference room, she flicked the switch to make the strip lights come alive. The portable table with their TV and DVD player was ready for action if needed, but it was the huge, four-wing closet she was there for - or rather, the countless costumes that were kept in it sorted after size and relevancy.
A moment later, Stella came staggering through the door holding an opened can of Slurrpy Cherry Cola. The promise of dressing up was the only thing that kept her on her feet; thus, she perked up when Regina moved the closet's sliding door aside to reveal all their fabulous garments. "We are gonna go commando tonight, aren't we, Reggie?" she said, taking a long swig from the can of soda before she wiped her brow with the back of a trembling hand.
"Well, I suppose we could…" Regina said and pretended to think hard about the suggestion. Turning to face Stella, she honeyed up her voice to make it crystal clear what she was talking about: "but I think that would make it very difficult for us to concentrate on-"
Splutter! - "Not like that! Jeez-Louise!" Stella croaked, wiping droplets of cherry cola off her nose and lips.
"Ohhhh," Regina said, sticking out her tongue. Before Stella could throw a scathing barb at her, she reached into the closet and took out the two coat hangers that carried their commando gear. Encapsulated in protective, clear plastic, the all-black clothes were freshly washed and ready to be put on. "Yours… mine," she continued, giving Stella the smaller package before she reached for the black track shoes that went with the night-time gear.
A grin replaced the frown on Stella's face, and she hurried over to the conference table to have enough room to unpack their fatigues. A quick swig of cherry cola later, she put down the can at the far end of the table to have both hands free for the important task - and to keep the freshly washed clothes out of harms' way of the sticky, brown liquid.
She pulled out a commando-style knitted cap, a pair of fingerless gloves, a pair of sports socks, a sturdy, ribbed sweater with shoulder straps and Velcro-equipped pockets on the sleeves, and finally a pair of heavy-duty pants that had reinforced patches on the knees and the backside.
An odd sound akin to whip-whip-zippety-zippety-whip-zip was heard right behind her. When she turned to look for the cause of the curious concert, she needed to do a triple-take at the sight of a fully suited Regina Harrison who was just pulling down in the sleeves of her black commando-style sweater. Rolling her eyes, Stella turned back to her own outfit. "One of these days, ya gonna pull a muscle doing that," she said as she smoothed down a small crease in the black pants.
"So I'm a fast dresser. Eh," Regina said and shrugged in her patented 'can't give a hoot'-fashion. "I learned it backstage at the big fashion events. Can't waste a second there." As she spoke, she wrapped a hair tie around her dark locks which left them sitting in a tight ponytail. The knitted cap came last, and she pulled it just a little crooked to make the utilitarian item turn into a fashion statement.
Stella just shook her head in despair at her partner's inherent elegance. The only fashion statement she herself would ever be able to project was 'dressed in the dark' - not that she took any notice of those things.
---
Outside on the parking lot, Regina and Stella strode across the uneven surface carrying a smartphone and an advanced camera with a light-enhancement scope, respectively. The main theme from the old astronaut movie The Right Stuff formed the heroic soundtrack as it played from Regina's phone, and the two investigators whistled along to the bombastic tune.
When they reached their cars, Regina cast a somewhat apprehensive glance at the odd-looking one that was parked next to the sleek sports car they had leased. "So… do we take the Merc or the-"
"Pacer," Stella said, already reaching into her pocket to find her car keys. Once the expensive camera equipment had been stored in the back of the quaint, quirky, temperamental and occasionally reluctant chocolate-brown vehicle, she opened the driver's side door and slid behind the spindly steering wheel.
"Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that," Regina mumbled, casting a sorrowful, longing glance at the far more modern, comfortable and stylish Mercedes SLK. Shrugging, she stepped into the AMC Pacer and reached for the seat belt at once.
"Let's get the show on the road," Stella said and tried to coax the old engine into life. It coughed, but didn't take. Twisting the key again, the engine coughed a little harder, but still didn't produce the goods.
After the third attempt had failed as well, a grinning Regina leaned over to bump shoulders with the driver. "I think it's trying to tell us something, Stell…"
"We're taking my old girl! I love my old girl, and my old girl loves me! So there!"
"Yes, but perhaps your old girl is trying to say we should take the Merc…"
"Perhaps the junior partner of this here detective agency should think more and talk less," Stella mumbled as she tried twisting the key one more time. The Pacer seemed to pick up on the growly tone in her voice as the six cylinders finally showed up for work.
"Junior partner? Moi?" Regina said, pressing her hands against her ample bosom - Stella just mouthed a few choice words about the state of the world in general and the state of former supermodels in particular as she reversed out of the parking space. After finding a forward gear, they were soon on their way.
*
*
CHAPTER 2
Through the good graces of the Holy Saint Yeierfarenvild, the patron saint of lost travelers around the world, Stella and Regina only took one wrong turn during their brief trip through the sprawling, and confusingly laid out, Bay City.
Stella soon had the AMC Pacer trickling down a quiet, suburban street lined by tall trees. The fearless investigators from the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency were in luck for once and found a parking space just long enough for the old girl between a pair of bulky SUVs. As Stella switched off the engine, she cast a disdainful glance at Regina's smartphone that displayed a grid of colorful lines. "Told ya that gee-pee-ess nonsense wouldn't help us a hoot."
"Well… we got here, didn't we?" Regina said; she closed the GPS app but kept the phone ready by making it balance on her black-clad thigh.
"We got here 'cos I drove us here."
"But of course, dahling."
The two women cast gloomy gazes at each other for a few seconds before they broke out in identical, goofy grins. "Anyway," Stella said, reaching behind the driver's seat to find her special binoculars. The expensive gadget was equipped with a light-enhancement scope similar to the one on the camera though of an older, simpler specification - for Stella's requirements, it was just perfect. "Let's see what we have here. Are you taking notes?"
Nodding, Regina activated the voice recorder app and held up the phone. "Yep."
Stella eyed the electronic gizmo again before she shook her head at the sad, sad demise of yet another of the things that had been part and parcel of being a private investigator since the dawn of the trade. Trench coats, fedoras, magnifying glasses, suede shoes with thick soles, hand-made ransom notes and now pencils and notepads had all gone the way of the Dodo bird. At least things like her beloved disguises and on-site surveillance gear were still in use - the moment they exited stage-left as well, she would pack her bags and relocate to the wilderness where she would become one of those crazed, old bats that parents have always used to threaten their children with when they wouldn't eat their Brussels Sprouts.
"All right," she said to get back to business. "We're in position at McKenner Street. It's in a nice, clean residential area at the foot of the Hills. We have been hired by Mrs. Brittney Shaw to get incriminating evidence, photos or otherwise, of her husband, Mr. Tucker F. Shaw, and the twenty-something woman he'll spend the night with. How a pot-bellied, balding, fifty-something man has been able to lure in a nubile, twenty-something bottle-blonde with legs that go from here and all the way up to there, I'll never know… but I digress."
"A fat wallet and a flashy Cadillac in the driveway," Regina added dryly.
"Probably. But we're here, and we're ready for anything. It's, uh…" Needing to get the correct time for the recording, Stella tore open the Velcro flap that covered her old-fashioned wristwatch. Before she could speak up, Regina stole her thunder by simply looking at her telephone:
"Just before a quarter past ten, PM. Or twenty-two-hundred hours plus twelve minutes, if you will."
The corners of Stella's mouth went south and her chin began to tremble at the intrusive nature of modern technology - now she couldn't even enjoy using her Minnie Mouse wristwatch, not to mention tearing open the cool Velcro flap. Shaking her head in a bout of sad, sad despair, she held up the enhanced binoculars to take her mind off the unstoppable progress. Pretty soon, some android Stella Starr would replace her as well and throw her into the trash with the rest of yesterday's news.
A deep sigh escaped her as she got a feel for their surroundings. "Well… the street is quiet. One or two people out walking their dogs. Mature women. Certainly not bottle-blonde twenty-somethings or pot-bellied guys. Plenty of cars parked at the curb on both sides of the street. Nine fairly identical houses. We need to make sure we have the right one before we start taking pictures, Reggie."
"Yep."
"Hmmm… the aforementioned, flashy late-model Cadillac is already parked at the curb a handful of vehicles further down the street from our present location," Stella continued, panning the binoculars across the street and the bungalows beyond it. "Looks like Mr. Shaw got here early tonight. Maybe he's hoping to have time for a second round of fun later on. Can't say… and I don't really wanna know."
She lowered the binoculars to get a view of the street that wasn't tinged in the greenish hue produced by the light-enhancement scope. "That's it for now, Reggie. I think it's time we made hay. C'mon," she said as she stowed the expensive gadget behind the driver's seat.
Before Regina had time to utter the quip she had already prepared about making hay long after the sun had gone down, Stella had left the Pacer and had zipped across the street hunched-over like a real pro. Chuckling, the model slash investigator got out of the car, went around the back, eyed the forgotten camera sitting all by its lonesome underneath the large rear window, tried to open the locked hatch, and finally waved a dejected Stella back to her so they could retrieve the important piece of equipment.
When the Nylon strap for the camera was safely around Stella's neck, they both hunched over and zipped across the street. Stella took the lead but Regina was right behind to follow her employer, mentor and main squeeze into action.
---
They soon reached a cluster of well-groomed, low hedges at the other side of the quiet street. Stella pulled the strolling Regina down toward her so they could both use what appeared to be walnut bushes for cover.
After giving their immediate surroundings a thorough check to make sure they hadn't yet been spotted by people walking their dogs or by two-timing husbands there for a double-bite of the bun - or buns - Stella leaned closer to Regina and opened her mouth to relay a whispered message. For a brief moment, the tall woman's delightful natural scent overwhelmed her; it made her break out in a cheesy grin, but she soon put her game face back on. "We have two problems, Reggie," she said in a whisper. "One, I kinda forgot my EverReady flashlight back home…"
"Oh… it doesn't matter 'cos I…" Regina whispered while she swiped through a few menus on her telephone. The flashlight-feature was soon activated though she shielded it with her hand so they wouldn't attract unwanted attention too soon in the sneaky surveillance. "…got one right here."
A dark grunt escaped Stella's lips as she eyed the strong cone of light that burst out of the small gizmo - yet another thing she could strike off the list of essential gadgets for detectives. "Oh. All right. Great. And the other problem is that I, uh… also kinda forgot which house number we're actually supposed to be staking out. They're all kinda alike, so… uh… you wouldn't happen to have that info in that thing of yours there, would ya?"
"Let me see," Regina said and performed a long sequence of swipes, taps and rolls before she upped the tempo and produced even more swiping, tapping and rolling. "Ah… ah… ah… hmmm… ah… ahhhh… ah… hmmm. Nope."
"Well, that's just purr-fect. Now you see why I call you the junior partner?"
Regina stuck out her tongue at once. "I beg your pardon? Perhaps if the senior partner would actually remember what she was supposed to, the junior partner could concentrate on all the important aspects of working in such a pressure-cooker environment-"
"Yeah, yeah," Stella said and waved her hand in dismissal. "It was either number twenty-six or twenty-eight."
"Should we split up and try one each, or stay together and try one at a time?"
"Well… hmmm…" Stella rubbed her chin while she worked out the countless permutations of the Chaos Theory that were sure to play out no matter which decision she made. The question of splitting up or staying together may have seemed a simple one, but stark reality had proven time and time again that it would be a real back-breaker if done wrong. "Well, I got the camera and you got the flashlight. Let's say we split up and swapped the gear."
Regina narrowed her eyes at the confusing statement. "But why should we-"
"If we swapped the gear, you'd have the camera and I'd have a fistful of nothing 'cos that nasty piece of hardware you got there refuses to work with me."
Now Regina furrowed her brow in addition to narrowing her eyes. "Well, if you read the instruction manual-"
"Not now, Reggie!"
"-you'd find that everything is explained real well there."
"You gotta have a bus-sized glob of cold cream stuck in your ears, Reggie, 'cos I distinctly said not now! Let's go!" Stella growled, jumping up from the cover of the walnut bush with the expensive, highly advanced camera ready to fire.
"But you never said what we're gonna do, Stell!" Regina said in a stage-whisper. When she didn't get an answer beyond an impatient waving of a gloved hand, she let out a chuckle and moved away from the bushes as well.
---
Both investigators ran hunched-over on their way to the first house which happened to be a green-and-white one that carried number twenty-six on a small plaque by the front door. Stella fumbled and bumbled her way across the lawn, careful of not getting too close to potential piles of dog poo. That it meant she swung her legs in big, windmill-like circles like she was wearing waders mattered little to her - the stink of dog poo on her shoes would ruin her entire week.
A moment later, a hard thump followed by an "Owch! Whaddahell 'zat thing doing there?" proved that Stella had indeed found the outside brick wall of number twenty-six. "Reggie! Where are you? I can't see blip-bloppin' dick out here without that blip-bloppin' flashlight!"
"That's funny… I didn't think you'd even be interested in seeing that! Ba-da-boom-tshhh!" Regina said, letting out a snicker. The taller investigator took it easy across the lawn with the flashlight-feature doing all the hard work for her.
"Ha! Ha! And another ha! Don't quit your day job, Missy Long Legs," Stella mumbled from somewhere in the darkness.
"I wasn't planning to… especially not considering my day job is paying for allllll the fun we're having right now, Stell."
The fact that Regina's tongue was firmly stuck in her cheek seemed to fly straight over Stella's head - maybe it was because the mop-topped investigator couldn't see anything at all in the dark corner of the garden she found herself in. "Yeah, yeah… and I am eternally grateful for the fact you're not a little runt like me. I wouldn't be able to pay you more than a bag of peanuts once a month," she said in a downcast voice.
"Aw, you're not a runt. You're just unschooled," Regina said with a grin.
A few more fumbles, stumbles, bumps and scrapes were heard before Stella said: "It can't be the right house, Reggie. Everything's dark and quiet. It's gotta be next door. Number twenty-eight… like I said."
"Weeeellll, you actuall-"
"Not now, Reggie, fer cryin' out loud! Jeez, the nerve of some people!" Stella growled, already on her way over to the next house from where light shone out of several windows - including what could potentially be the bedroom.
Once she reached it, she discovered the house was held mainly in red though with a few black highlights around the windows and the main entrance. A quick peek at the letterbox at the front door revealed it was the property of someone called D. Yates; Stella nodded as she remembered the name Denise Yates being mentioned by Mrs. Brittney Shaw, their employer, as one of her husband's many flings. "It's here, all right!" she whispered, flashing Regina a thumbs-up. The words had only just left her mouth before the lights went out in the room she was standing at.
A row of ceramic jars and flowerpots below what Stella suspected was the bedroom window offered the perfect platform for her to climb up on. The flowerpots had been turned upside down to prevent rain water from getting into them, and the large, flat undersides provided plenty of space for the high-grip soles of her black track shoes though Stella Starr could best be described as less-than-nimble.
Teetering on the brink of disaster - or rather on the edge of a staggering ten-inch drop - she raised the camera and held the light-enhanced lens to the bedroom window. The camera had a hundred-and-seventeen different settings, but when she clicked the button to snap a photo, it seemed she had missed a vital one because nothing at all happened.
"Whut? Oh, this miserable thing… seventy-nine ninety-five wasted!" she hissed in a hoarse whisper while she lowered the advanced digital camera to look at the confusing array of blinking icons on the four-inch display at the back. Everything seemed to be working just fine so she turned it around to look at the protruding lens. In the end, she gave it a little shakey-shakey-shakey just to be sure that it was even on.
At that exact moment, the timer delay she had accidentally set with her thumb while holding up the camera ran out. An electronic click-whirr simulating the old-fashioned sounds of the shutter was heard; the click-whirr was followed a split second later by the integrated flash going off two inches from Stella's face.
The photo that was taken showed a hopelessly washed-out Stella Starr with a look of pure, unrestrained horror etched into her wide-open eyes. The bright-white flash made her head snap back which in turn caused her to lose her balance. Letting out a prolonged braying akin to that of a hiker who had just been told the light at the end of the shortcut was in fact a freight train coming straight for her, she flapped her free arm in the air for several seconds before gravity took over and she fell backwards off the row of ceramic garden equipment.
She entered freefall and hurtled through the mesosphere, the stratosphere, the troposphere and finally plain old fear for several minutes before her plummeting toward a certain, messy death at the foot of the million-mile chasm was intercepted by a pair of strong hands belonging to one Regina Harrison.
"Whoops-a-daisy," Regina said in a calm voice as she made sure Stella would remain on her feet after dropping down from the ten-inch precipice.
Stella shook her head to get the fourteen billion white stars to leave her vision. She was as blind as a mole without her glasses on the best of days, but the sneak-attack by the devious flash had made her even blinder than that. "Ebbl… bebbl… wabbell.. habbell… eyes… eyes… can't… see… ebbl… light… bebbl… light everywhere… stars… white… stars… eyes…" she croaked, grappling for anything to hold onto so she wouldn't continue her rapid descent.
"So you might say you're real starry-eyed tonight, huh, Stell?"
"Ebbl… wabb- Reggie! I'm tap dancing on the edge of oblivion here and you're cracking jokes!" Stella growled, looking past the tall investigator since she was unable to focus on anything at all.
"Sorry," Regina said and pulled her squeeze in for a sideways hug. "So you didn't get any evidence?"
"Don't think so… the damn camera malfunctioned on me! Eighty bucks down the drain… I hate technology. Is there anything at all on the display?"
Stella still carried the camera around her neck on the sturdy Nylon strap, so Regina reached out and flipped it over to be able to see the photo it had snapped. "Well… I think it could be you, but then again… it could be Chewbacca on a bad hair day," Regina said, snickering at the washed-out image of a horrified Stella.
"Reggie!"
"Sorry… okay, I'll give it a shot. I just need the camera," Regina said as she moved the strap holding the expensive equipment up and over Stella's black commando cap.
"Thanks a bunch, Reggie," Stella croaked, wiping the fear-induced sweat off her brow with a gloved hand. "You're my friend… my best friend… hell, my only friend… ohhhh… and… and… and I owe you my life, Reggie. I'll do anything for you. Anything! I'll cook you omelets… the real kind, with a ton of bacon… for three weeks straight!"
Regina stuck her tongue firmly in her cheek though she knew Stella wouldn't be able to see it. "Gee, thanks, Stell. If you hold the bacon but throw in plenty of sliced tomatoes and maybe one or two zucchinis, you got a deal," she said, leaning in to bump shoulders with the other member of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency.
While Stella fumbled around in Denise Yates' garden with her arms stretched out ahead of her like a pint-sized, black-clad mummy trying to recover from her flash-induced haze, Regina quickly took care of business by pointing the advanced camera through the bedroom window and snapping an entire sequence of high-resolution images. She used an ultra-sensitive setting and several other advanced parameters in order to avoid triggering the flash, and when she checked the display to verify what the lens had picked up, her lips were pulled back in an ugly grimace at the crispness of the details. "Okay, I'll call that incriminating evidence. It's in the can, Stell. Good thing I did it, too…"
"Why?"
" 'Cos it seems they're playing hide the salami… uh… doggie-"
"Oh, Gaaaaaaawd! I don't wanna know! Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up!" Stella cried, clapping her hands over her eyes though it wouldn't actually make a difference either way in her present condition. Her horrified shriek echoed all the way up and down the quiet street, and it resulted in porchlights being turned on at several of the other houses.
Moments later, the activity outside the bedroom window caused plenty of activity among the two people inside. Clothes were flung on in the dark, hasty kisses were exchanged and several doors were slammed until the hefty, pot-bellied, balding, two-timing Tucker F. Shaw appeared on the front lawn holding a briefcase, a tie and a tweed jacket that he hadn't had time to put on. He had time for a brief gander at the two black-clad investigators before he took off in a fast jog that didn't seem too easy for his hefty, bouncing frame. A further door was slammed before the flashy Cadillac took off from the curb and raced into the night.
Regina whipped around to locate her business associate; she needed a moment or two to reacquire the dazed Stella who had wandered off on her own in the few seconds she had been left unattended. "He split, Stell! Now what? Do we go after him?" she said, grabbing the errant investigator by the shoulder straps.
"Yes… but… can't… see… can't… drive… you have to drive, Reggie…" Stella croaked, still stretching her hands ahead of her so she could at least prevent herself from gaining a head-first introduction to any brick walls, trees or walnut bushes nearest her.
A nasal whine escaped Regina while her elegant face was contorted into a mask of hideousness. "Oh, nooooooo… drive? I have to drive?" she said in a croak that matched Stella's every bit of the way. Still grimacing, she looked across the street at their chocolate-brown means of transport. "That thing? Oh, fu-"
"Don't you go dissin' my old girl, Reggie! Not now! Not ever!" Stella barked before she once more wandered off in the wrong direction altogether. It took a pair of strong hands on her shoulders to steer her back toward the street.
Regina swallowed a couple of times to keep the sour taste down; then she broke out in a half-shrug that was hampered by having to keep a tight grip on Stella's commando-style sweater. "Well… I suppose we won't run into any paparazzi at this time of the day. On the other hand, they would never recognize me behind the wheel of that vile contraption-"
"And there you go again! It's a genuine piece of Americana that's got more class and style than you and me combined!"
"You're half right, Stella, dahling. You're half right," Regina said, mussing her partner's wild mop of hair as they finally got back out onto the street.
The final few hurdles - like getting Stella into the Pacer and making sure the seat belt was tightly buckled - were quickly taken care of before Regina slipped behind the wheel and twisted the ignition key. Much to her surprise, the old engine started at the first attempt.
-*-*-*-
Twenty minutes later - which included two wrong turns and a lengthy monologue courtesy of an agitated Stella Starr that described all the things that were abhorrent in the so-called modern world - Regina pulled the supposedly classy and stylish vehicle to a halt by the curb on one of Bay City's busy central streets. A constant companion of chugga-chugga-clink-clonk had developed somewhere in the drivetrain, and it was matched by a series of increasingly worried groans emanating from Stella.
It was five to eleven, and the wild nightlife was only just beginning around the two investigators. Youths had begun to circle the usual hot spots looking for the usual thrills, and the music heard through the open windows of the many cars on the street had turned far louder and harder than it had been earlier in the evening.
Old and new neon signs promising ' One Hour Photos' - 'The Tech Zone: iPhones Repaired While U Wait' - ' Alcoholic And Non-Alcoholic Beverages Served at Bob's All-American Bar & Grill' and 'Girls Girls Girls At Smokey Joe's Whiskey Café Open 24/7' adorned the walls of many of the taller buildings lining the street.
Lights were on in the row of stores they had parked in front of though the only one that seemed to do good business at that time of the day was Giovanni's Pizza. Inside the parlor that had a handful of tables draped in red, green and white tablecloths, two men wearing matching black mustaches and white t-shirts were competing to see which of them could thump a ball of dough into submission the quickest. A group of teenagers chilled-out inside the parlor with their eyes firmly glued onto their smartphones while they waited for their food.
"Well… we lost him. He's long gone now," Regina said and moved the column-mounted gear lever into neutral. When the idling engine began to run rough and utter chugga-chugga-clink-clonk all over again, she switched it off.
"Looks like it… ding-dong-darn'it. I could have sworn those taillights belonged to his Caddy," Stella croaked, wishing she had a crowbar to pry her fingers off the seat belt - her digits had turned white and cold as a result of the hair-raising ride she had been put through.
"They did belong to a Caddy… just not the right Caddy. That particular fellow looked like a minister and not a two-timer."
"Mmmmmmm-yeah, you never know…"
"I guess that's true."
"Mmmm. Gawd, I wish you wouldn't put the old girl through such a wringer… she isn't used to stunt driving," Stella continued, leaning forward to caress the vinyl dashboard once her hands had been freed from captivity.
Regina shot a sideways glance at her partner and her unusual behavior. "And by stunt driving, I suspect you mean the time when I nearly broke the twenty-seven miles per hour speed barrier?"
"Yes!"
"Thought as much."
Stella rolled up the seat belt so she could shuffle around and face the driver. "Reggie, this isn't a sporty car like the Merc! The old girl needs to be treated with kid gloves. Didn't you hear the chugga-chugga-clink-clonk just now?"
"Ohhhh… was that the car?" Regina said in a tone of voice that proved she had just witnessed the ignition of the proverbial light bulb over her head. "I thought that was you!"
"No, it was… the… haw! Haw! Flippin' haw!" Stella growled, poking her finger into Regina's side for each 'haw.'
"Ooooooooh! Yee-Owch! Quit pokin'!" Regina said, squirming in the seat for several seconds before she grabbed hold of Stella's fingers to keep them away from her sensitive midsection. "If that leaves a bruise, I'm gonna ask Steve to come over and eat lunch with us for a whole week! Or two!"
The threat of seeing Mister Chiseled Jaw Steve Darrian on a semi-permanent basis was a strong impetus for Stella to restrain herself from further bodily harm - in other words, she hurried into the corner and sat on her hands to be as far away from Regina as she could. After a few moments, she let out a snicker at the silliness of it all. "So… anyway. My eyesight's better now. I think we should swap over," she said and reached for the little lever that would open the door.
Once on the sidewalk by the busy pizza parlor, Stella eyed the interior of the small restaurant with the knowing gaze of a true connoisseur. A few of the teenagers stared back out at her and the chocolate-brown vintage rarity, but she ignored them. Instead, she spent a short while weighing the pros and cons of Giovanni's Pizza before she strolled around the back of the Pacer to wait for Regina to unravel her long frame from the driver's seat. "Right. I'll do the driving… which will leave you free to do the calling."
"Okay," Regina said, reaching into her commando pants' reinforced pocket to find her telephone as she went around the car's front. "Who am I calling, exactly?" she said before she opened the passenger side door.
"The Pizza Palace. We need a little midnight snack when we get home," Stella said, getting into her beloved Pacer and starting the engine. It caught at the first attempt like the old girl understood it wasn't a good time to behave like a diva.
Turning around, Regina cocked her head and looked at the pizza parlor they had parked in front of. It seemed to be a solid, clean establishment, and the signs on the store's front presenting the various dishes they made proved the prices were more than fair. She scratched her cheek twice before she shrugged and got into the chocolate-brown car. "Any particular reason why we can't use this restaurant right here?" she said as she closed the door behind her.
"Yeah. You know I have this itty-bitty problem deciding what I want whenever there's a big selection on offer?"
"Ah… yes. I've noticed," Regina said, nodding as she remembered one, two, three, seventeen, thirty-nine and even more occasions when Stella's legendary inability to make up her mind had put them in hot water in various eating establishments across town. One notable incident at a coffee shop was still fresh in her mind though it had taken place several years back, but even the trouble they had recently caused at a hot dog stand at the flea market in Ramona Battista Park was a good example of Stella's problem.
An Evil Eye flashed from the driver's side of the AMC Pacer to the passenger side. Stella's lips moved silently for a while like she was composing a scathing barb, but she ultimately decided to swallow it and head for home instead. "The guys at the Pizza Palace already know my preferences," she said as they left the curb and Giovanni's behind.
"Good thinking, dahling!" Regina said, finding the number for their regular supplier of all things greasy and spicy in the registry. "A couple of cans of Slurrpy Raspberry Fizz for you, and a small salad and a mineral water for me. So… what kind of midnight snack would tickle your tastebuds tonight? Beef burger, chicken burger, fish burger, a regular dog, a chili dog, a frankfurter dog, a burrito, tacos… hey, you wanna share a deep-pan tortilla? Or you could have an Alamo pizza, or a Mediterranean, or a Four Seasons with extra cheese, or perhaps a Chili Special, or that classic, classic Meaty Mama…? And how about some fries on the side?"
Stella's lips curled back into a horrified grimace as a nightmare of unfathomable proportions towered up in front of her in the shape of the dreaded monster known as I-Need-To-Make-A-Decision-And-Pretty-Quickly-Too. Shaking her head, she drove along the busy streets with a blank stare in her wide-open eyes.
-*-*-*-
"Stella… uh…" Regina said a fair while later. Rubbing her chin, she stared straight out of the windshield at an ominous sign directly ahead of them.
Stella's preoccupied mind had gone into cruise-mode while thinking about what she would like to eat, so they had been driving around - and around and around and around and around and around - parts of Bay City they hadn't visited in a while. Even if they had visited all their old hunting grounds, they had looked so different in the dark it hadn't been much help to them.
However, the two investigators were certain there hadn't been a wire-mesh fence blocking their way the last time they had gone on a pleasure cruise to one of their regular hang-out spots, and they were both quite certain the aforementioned wire-mesh fence - that hadn't been there - hadn't carried a sign that said 'Stay Out! Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight!' either. In short, they were in trouble yet again.
Regina continued: "I don't think we're supposed to be here… where are we, exactly?"
An embarrassed grimace spread over Stella's features as she tapped her fingers on the top of the Pacer's steering wheel. "Not really sure…" she mumbled, rolling down the window in the hope it would offer her some hints as to their whereabouts. The tooting of a ship's horn somewhere out in the bay, the disharmonic cries and shrieks of a pair of seagulls that hadn't gone to bed yet though it was way past bedtime for sea or land-based fowls of any kind, and creaks and jingles produced by the metal chains on the tall cranes as they were rustled by the gentle breeze provided more than enough clues for the experienced investigator to draw a conclusion: "We're in the docks," she said decisively.
"But what are we doing in the docks, Stell?"
"Boy, you're askin' an awful lot of questions tonight, Reggie!" Stella said and thumped her fist down onto the steering wheel. "Do I look like the flippin' Oracle of Dolphin to you?"
"Delphi-"
"Don't interrupt me. If only you hadn't blanked out my brains with all that talk about the midnight snacks, I would probably have been able to provide an answer…"
Regina shot her friend a gloomy glare before she turned around in the seat to face her. "Well, excuse me! You wanted the food… perhaps we should have bought it right there at Giovanni's instead of calling for it, huh?"
Before Stella had time to come up with an explanation that went deeper than her opening volley, a beefy shape exited a booth fifty yards further down the quay. The beefy shape dragged an equally beefy shape on a metal leash, and the two soon lumbered into view. "Look, there's someone we can ask," she said, pointing at the taller of the two beefy shapes.
"Stell… forget that! Let's get out of here while we still can!" Regina said in a croak after catching the briefest glimpse of the approaching peril.
"No no, don't worry… I know what I'm doing. I can talk to those people…" Stella said as she rolled down the driver's side window and stuck her elbow on the sill.
Regina's eyes went wide, then even wider at not only Stella's words but the fact that the shorter of the two beefy shapes was revealed to be a watchdog with canine teeth the size of carrots. It had to weigh at least two-hundred and thirty pounds, but even that impressive amount seemed to be only half of what its owner carried around in a rolling, bow-legged gait.
The security guard wore military boots and a dark-blue uniform that was stretched to bursting point across his bulging butt and belly. A utility belt around his waist carried a pistol, a nightstick, a walkie-talkie, a can of pepper spray and a pair of handcuffs. He was bare-headed, but he didn't need a uniform hat or cap to appear intimidating - his bulbous nose, his meaty cheeks and chins, his low brow and his lumpy, shaved head that didn't have much of a neck underneath it were frightening enough on their own.
On cue, he turned on a flashlight and shone it in Stella's face. " 'Da hell are you dames doin'?" he said once he was close enough. "Dontcha read good? Cantcha see that sign there?" he continued, moving the cone of light onto the sign saying Stay Out!
"We can read just perfect, Mista! We're kinda lost and we were wondering if you would point us in the right direction?" Stella said, squinting hard to avoid being blinded by the flashlight. While she spoke, she grappled between the seats for something to use as an excuse for ending up at the security guard's post. When she found an old road map, she pulled it up and unfolded it.
"Lost?" the security guard parroted, lumbering closer to the Pacer.
When the guard and the fearsome watchdog got close enough, a wave of B.O. accompanied them. It was difficult to ascertain if it came from the man, the dog or both, but the results were the same: Regina's highly sensitive nose that could distinguish between no less than forty-seven different perfumes from all the major brands screamed in agony and headed for the hills - the rest of Regina's face froze solid in a mask of raw displeasure.
"Oh, you better believe we're lost, Mista. And then some. Lookie here, we were supposed to be there, but we ended up here which definitely isn't there… and we don't even know where here is… or there for that matter. Are we here? Are we there? We've been just about everywhere," Stella continued, holding up and pointing at the road map so the lumbering security guard could see it. When she noticed the map covered southern Guatemala and parts of El Salvador, her eyes grew wide for a moment before she decided to take the same approach she had employed countless times over her career as a private investigator: she just needed to fake it big-time.
The security guard shone the flashlight at the road map for a few moments before he scratched his shaved head. The noises it produced made the sensitive Regina twitch in her seat. The twitching made the watchdog growl, drool and take a liking to the dark-haired treat in the passenger seat of the Pacer which only worsened Regina's twitching.
"I don't get all this Spanish crap… hey lady, ya oughtta buy a map where the street names and all that stuff are written in English," the beefy guard said, scratching his lumpy head again. "But anyway, I don't know where that is, neither… I only been livin' here in Bay City a couple-a months and I ain't been everywhere yet. But if ya double back some 'til ya reach the gates that mark the exit from the free port, you're at the intersection at Eleventh Street. If ya turn right there, you'll head downtown. I know 'cos that's the route I take whenever I head for Floozie Woozie's, my favorite titty bar."
Stella nodded and smiled and nodded and smiled and nodded some more. "Exit the free port, Eleventh Street, turn right to go downtown. Thanks a bunch, Mista! Say, that's a nice doggy you got there. What's it's name?"
"Donald."
"No sh- kiddin'?"
"Nope. And I'm Archie."
"Donald, eh? That's a nice name for a nice doggy. Hi, Archie, I'm Stella. This is Reggie," Stella said and nodded and smiled some more while she pointed at Regina who seemed to be scared stiff from the presence of Donald, the drooling terror-hound. "Well, thanks again, Archie. It was a pleasure talking to you."
The security guard took a step back and offered the lost women a wave. Then he yanked at Donald's metal leash and lumbered back to their heated booth and the shared, half-eaten can of spaghetti and meatballs that awaited them there.
Inside the Pacer, Stella selected reverse and rolled away from the wire-mesh fence. "And that, my dear junior investigator, is how you deal with that kind of situation. Stay cool, stay calm and stay in perfect control. I'm sure you'll learn one of these days."
It took a long while for the frozen look of fear to melt and turn into Regina's usual elegant features. When she was back to normal, she performed a full-body shimmy-shimmy-shake-shake in the seat to get all the willies off her; then she leaned across to place a kiss on Stella's cheek. "I'm impressed… no, I'm amazed! The way that overgrown mutt gave me The Eye, I thought we were going to be chunky dog food for sure… but you didn't blow up."
"Oh, I never blow up, Reggie," Stella said and applied the brakes. A forward gear was soon snatched on the column-mounted shifter, and the Pacer began to roll in the right direction so they could exit the free port. A short minute went by before Stella let out a quiet chuckle. "All right, I may lose my temper a little now and then, but I never blow up."
"Uh-huh?"
"No, really."
"Ah, well, about that," Regina said, turning around in the seat. She held up her hands and began to count off on her fingers as she thought back to the vast number of times where she had experienced Stella flying into one of her renowned five-star, ocean-going, fur-lined explosive rages that usually saw steam pouring from her ears and a long line of words rhyming with '…ucker' spew from her mouth.
She was about to provide a few examples, but the dark squint that was flashed by the person holding the Pacer's steering wheel convinced her to keep quiet - for now.
-*-*-*-
The unwanted detour down by the docks somewhere inside the Bay City Free Port had cost the two investigators a large amount of time that they hadn't counted on spending, and their return trip through the bustling streets of downtown where unruly groups of youths had been engaged in all kinds of juvenile, nocturnal activity hadn't helped. It was nearly twenty to twelve when the Pacer finally drove up the concrete ramp to get to the parking lot in front of the low building housing the Harrison-Starr office.
Yawning hard, Stella barely had time to turn the wheel straight before she had to take urgent evasive action to clear a scooter that came racing the other way. "Whaddahell?!" she cried, swerving to the right before the Pacer came to a screeching, rocking, creaking, groaning halt. Moving her arm with the speed of the pedals of a runaway spinner-exercise bike, she cranked down the driver's side window and stuck out her head. "Sunday frickin' driver!" she cried at the top of her lungs. When that wasn't enough, she drew a deep breath so she could offer the reckless rider an even larger piece of her mind: "People like you shouldn't even have a driver's license, buddy! And just a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty headlight, too! For cryin' out loud!"
Regina had flung up her hands to protect her priceless face when the threat of a head-on collision had been the largest, but she removed them just in time to get a good look at the red scooter - and especially at the square heater box installed above the rear wheel. "Oh! Stell…" she said, tugging at the sleeve of her partner's commando-style sweater.
Stella was too busy hurling abuse to notice the tugging though the rider she was shouting to was already long gone. "Or maybe you don't need a driver's license to wheel a scooter around?" she continued, still hanging out of the window and still roaring at the top of her lungs. "Well, you damn well should, buddy, 'cos your driving or riding or what-the-flip-ever just frickin'-frackin' sucks, lemme tell ya!"
"Stella-"
"It was just a big kid, too!" Stella growled, pulling back inside. "He might have ended up as a colorful hood ornament on my old girl, and then I woulda been really, reall-ll-ll-lly annoyed! Do you have any idea how much a hood for a '75 Pacer costs these days? We're talkin' big bucks, huge bucks, giganto bucks!" she said, smacking her fist into her open palm for each time she said 'bucks.' "And not only that! Nooooooo, you can hardly get the dang thing! I've already talked to Billy about fixing-"
"Stella-"
"What, for frick's sake?! And quit tuggin' on my sleeve!"
"That was the delivery rider from the Pizza Palace!" Regina cried, pointing behind them.
"Whut?!" A wide-eyed stare was slapped onto Stella's face, and she needed to shake her head hard to get rid of it. When she had, she connected the dots in her mind which drew a somewhat ugly picture of an empty stomach that suddenly couldn't be filled by crispy-baked dough, spiced tomato sauce, sizzling-hot cheese, Texas-sized chunks of fried chicken, a gentle sprinkling of onion rings and the finest Tex-Mex seasoning spices the Pizza Palace had to offer. "Our food… my Alamo Extra Chicken! Did he leave it at the door- no he didn't!" she continued, craning her neck while zeroing in on the door to the office.
Regina was about to offer a course of action that would fit within Stella's parameters of being cool, calm and in perfect control when the already irate Stella continued: "I don't be-blip-bloppin'-lieeeee-ve it! He's tryin' to cheat us… me… out of my hard-earned Alamo and my Slurrpy Raspberry Fizz… but that ain't gonna happen! No way, no how, no ma'am!"
"Stell, if we're going to chase him down, shouldn't we take the Merc? I mean-"
"No! This is personal! Never, ever, ever get between a woman and her pizza!"
"Right…" Regina said with a highly apprehensive grimace tainting her features.
Working far too hard behind the wheel for eleven-forty-one at night, Stella wasted little time in turning the Pacer around and pointing it at the street - it only took her a short minute to conduct the four-point turn needed to get around the wide open space in the parking lot. Mashing the gas, she set off after the fleeing pizza delivery boy which made the tired, old engine send out a distress signal in the shape of Chugga!-Chugga!-Clink!-Clonk!
Much to the vocal displeasure of the old shocks and springs - and Regina Harrison who wanted to dive for cover but couldn't - Stella had the chocolate-brown vehicle flying down the concrete ramp and bursting into the traffic on the busy street without waiting for a gap. A barrage of screeching brakes, hooting horns and angry hollers accompanied her actions, but she stuck her arm out of the window and sent the world at large a clear message that they should pipe down and stay far, far away from the death-defying Pizza Pursuit.
Soon, Stella had her old girl going at nearly twenty-five miles per hour which was just shy of the ultimate top speed for the vehicle. Everything shook and rattled, and the Pacer's straight-six engine worked so hard that it sounded like it was fit to pop a water hose at the very least. "Ya see him? Tell me ya see him!" she growled, leaning so far forward that her chin rested on top of the steering wheel.
"I don't see him…"
"Aw! Rusty bells! That guy's gotta be the reincarnated Evil Knievel or somebody! Whatintheholyflip kinda delivery rider is he, anyhow? Taking off without delivering the pizzas! I mean, he's a delivery rider, ain't he? Ain't he supposed to deliver the pizzas?!"
"Yes, but we weren't ther-" A split second later, Regina's comment turned into a shriek of surprise when Stella suddenly changed lanes without activating any kind of turning signal, looking over her shoulder or even into the rear-view mirror. Screeching brakes right next to them made Regina slam her eyes shut and wait for the crunching, but it never came.
To Stella's credit, she had the gas pedal all the way down on the soft carpeting, but the rattling, chugging old girl only had so much to give. They were passed left and right by cars adhering to the modest speed limit, a fact that left Stella looking like she wanted to take a big bite out of the steering wheel. "Oh! Is that… is that him?" she suddenly cried, pointing out of the windshield at a red scooter a short distance ahead of them.
"It's gotta be, Stell. Either that or he's called the Pizza Palace for some urgent backup!"
"Dang, he musta chip-tuned that scooter or something!" Stella growled when it seemed they were unable to catch the rider.
"No, actually," Regina said and leaned over to point at the speedometer on the dashboard. "The needle is here, but the speed limit is over here, look," she continued, pointing at first twenty-six and then at thirty-five.
Several stunned seconds went by where the only sounds heard were Regina's unbridled chuckles and the Pacer's rhythmical, and unsettling, chugga-chugga-clink-clonk . "Y'know, Reggie…" Stella said with a clear sniffle, "I used to think you were my friend… now I'm not so sure." She blinked several times to see through the veil of tears that had formed at the thought of not only losing her Alamo pizza and her Slurrpy Raspberry Fizz, but Regina's support as well.
"Awww… I'll always be in your corner, Stell. Don't you worry about that."
"Th- thank you… but that means you're… you're… dissing my old girl in such a time of crisis! Don't you understand that fella up there is escaping with our food? With my Alamo Extra Chicken?!"
"I do understand, I just don't-"
"Why, why, whyyyyyyy does it frickin'-frackin' always have to be this way?!" Stella cried at the top of her lungs, whacking her fist onto her thigh while jerking back and forth between the steering wheel and the seat's plush backrest. "Why am I being punished the whole frickin'-frackin' time, Reggie?! Ohhhhh, I was so much looking forward to a real greasy, hunka-chunka-super-duper-tasty Alamo… fried chicken and Tex-Mex and onion rings and spiced tomato sauce and onion rings-"
"You said that alre-"
"And I don't even really like onion rings 'cos they can give me a really, really poor taste in my mouth if they're not fried just right and fried chicken and Tex-Mex and, oh Gawd, I just love the Alamo!"
Regina chuckled at the way Stella's emotions could flip-flop at the speed of sound, but she didn't have time to make further comments before Stella's temper ran off with her once more. After they had uncovered an extra bucket of speed from somewhere - or maybe the delivery rider had slowed down thinking he had lost his tail - the miracle happened and the rattling chocolate-brown Pacer intercepted the red scooter and the young man riding it.
The driver's-side window was still rolled down, so Stella drew a deep breath and stuck her head out all over again. The headwind made her blond haystack fly about which gave her the look of an avenging Fury sent down from Mount Olympus to punish impatient pizza delivery riders. "Oy! Oy, you on the blip-bloppin' scooter!" she cried at the top of her lungs. Her angry outburst made the teenager making the deliveries for the Pizza Palace stare at her with wide, spooked eyes.
"Remember the Alamo?! Well, you oughtta 'cos you're haulin' my Alamo right now in that heater box there! And not only that, but my razzies as well! Pull over! Pull over right this blip-bloppin' minute and hand over that pizza and those razzies or I swear that I, Stella Starr, iz gonna make you wish you had pulled over a mile ago! Driving off with our food just because we're a couple-a minutes late! Why, that's nothing short of diss-pick-a-bell behavior, and you know what? You know what, fella?! That's just plain, old, downright un-American! Yessir! So pull over!"
The heated tirade made Regina let out a long groan and clap her hands over her eyes - not just because she was embarrassed, but because it would lessen the potential for someone to recognize her.
Instead of doing what he was told, the spooked scooter rider twisted the throttle lever and took off in a cloud of pale-blue two-stroke oil smoke to get away from the fiery Fury in the brown car.
"He's… he's… he's…" Stella croaked, staring at the far nimbler scooter as it zipped between the lanes and grew into a distant red dot almost at once. "I'm… I'm… I'm not giving up! I'm not giving up! I'm not giving up!" she growled through clenched teeth as she tried to press even harder down on the gas pedal.
The old girl responded by issuing a tormented groan and by shooting whisks of black smoke out of the tailpipe. Soon, a few more unpleasant sounds in the shape of clunka-clunka-umpa-umpa-clunka-ba-da-umpa-clunka could be heard accompanying the already worrying chant of chugga-chugga-clink-clonk - and up front, even the headlights began to dim.
"Perhaps you should…" Regina mumbled; her knuckles had turned white from the relentless submission hold she had on the panic grip above the seat.
"I'm not giving- whut?!"
"For starters, I think you're hurting your old girl! Can't you hear those clinks and clonks and bumps and scrapes and God knows what else?"
Stella looked about ready to explode all over again; it lasted for another couple of seconds before she let out a long sigh. "Yeah… ding-dong-darn'it…" she mumbled, nodding as the ugly truth hit her.
"And! We're doing all this for food we haven't paid a dime for yet, Stell! Wouldn't it be a lot more satisfying for all involved if we, oh, stopped pretending we're in an episode of Starsky & Hutch and turned around, drove back to the Pizza Palace and just ordered a new, cheese-dripping-steaming hot Alamo? Or a Meaty Mama with all the trimmings? The Palace is open 'till two so we won't even have to rush it!"
Stella blinked several times while they kept racing along the street; it was clear the threat slash prospects of hurting the AMC Pacer and getting a hot Alamo weighed heavily on her mind - the former was as frightening as the latter was tempting. She licked her lips and shot Regina a look of indecision before she tried to relocate the red scooter once more somewhere ahead of them. "Well… I…"
"And I'll tell you something else too, Stell… not only will I pay for the whole shebang, I'll even throw in a couple of cans of that new Slurrpy taste you've talked about the whole week!"
"Oooooh, the Cherry Cola with thirty percent more cherries?"
"Yesssssss! And that's not all," Regina said, speaking like the host of a TV-shop special, "then we can go back to the office and watch Miss Congeniality!"
"Ohhh, I love that movie… or maybe The Heat…?"
"Or The Heat. Your choice."
Stella chewed on her lips for several long moments before she came to her senses and eased off on the gas pedal. Way ahead of them, the delivery rider and the pale-blue trail of smoke that spewed from the abused scooter disappeared for good. Leaning back in the tired, old Pacer's comfortable seat as the insane speed trailed off to a safer twenty miles per hour, she let out a long sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose up under her glasses. "Thank you for pulling me back to the real world, Reggie. I was in the zone. You know, that stealthy ninja killer zone…?"
"Except the stealthy part… and the ninja part," Regina said under her breath, but she masked it by letting out a sigh of relief. Around them, other drivers let their feelings be known about irresponsible people street-racing chocolate-brown AMC Pacers by tooting and waving extended middle fingers at them. "I know, Stell. And you're welcome," she said out loud, reaching over to pat her partner's thigh.
Several relieved smiles and grins were exchanged between the two investigators before Stella turned right at the next intersection so she could go back without making a risky U-turn. With the nerve-racking drama over, the Pacer was soon headed for the parking lot by the fabled Pizza Palace where a freshly made midnight snack and the finest sodas the Slurrpy Company had to offer awaited them.
*
*
CHAPTER 3
All the high-strung histrionics of the previous evening and night were forgotten by the time the new day dawned. The sun was out to greet the world from the get-go, and although Stella Starr wouldn't trust the TV weather forecasters further than she could throw them, they promised the day would only get sunnier, warmer and even more pleasant as it went along.
The movie had been a good one, the midnight snacks had been great - even though Regina had needed to bribe the people at the Pizza Palace with a couple of fifty-dollar bills to stop them from reporting Stella's harassment of their delivery rider to the police - and the night they had spent snuggled up in one another's arms had been wonderful.
After a pair of separate showers and a shared breakfast featuring plenty of hot, black coffee, crispy toast and sweet jam for Stella, and home-squashed pulpy orange juice, low-fat creamy yogurt and healthy muesli for Regina, the two investigators descended the staircase of their apartment complex and headed out onto the parking lot. Like promised by the weather people on TV, the gentle breeze was warm and the sun beat down from a clear, blue sky.
For their grand day out at the seaside, Regina Harrison had chosen an outfit that fit her old title of Queen of the Catwalks: black, wedge-heeled open pumps and a bright-white Giacomo Laurentii pantsuit that was loose enough here and tight enough there to flaunt that she had lost none of the physical presence that had made her into one of the world's top models during the first part of her runway career. Her long, dark hair and the naturally-tanned tone of her skin popped against the white fabric and made her stand out in any crowd. A white purse on a golden chain was draped over her left shoulder, and she wore a white Panama straw hat to protect her sensitive facial skin from the powerful rays of the sun. A pair of smoke-tinted, titanium-framed shades worth in excess of fifteen-hundred dollars completed the ensemble. The shades had been a promotional freebie from an ad campaign she had done for a Brazilian high-end fashion accessory company who wanted to get a foothold into the North American markets.
A stark contrast to Regina's look of cool, classy and supreme sophistication was offered in the shape of Stella Starr who came bounding onto the parking lot with a grin that reached from ear to ear. The perpetually shaggy-haired Stella wore bright-green cotton shorts that allowed a good look at her blinding-white legs, her brand new Wonder Woman merchandise socks and her dusty-blue sandals. Above that, she wore a neon-yellow, V-necked t-shirt that carried a cheeky cartoon of the Road Runner uttering a variation of his immortal slogan: 'Meep Meep Me! Meep Meep You!'
Like Regina, she wore a hat to stop the sun's rays from scrambling her brains, but that was where the similarity ended. Unlike the cool Panama hat gracing Regina's dark locks, Stella wore a pale-green, floppy, shapeless thing known as a Happy Camper bucket hat that was a big summer hit in European countries in general and in Scandinavia in particular. She had found it online and had splashed out on it at once, much to Regina's heartfelt objections.
Her broad grin was explained when she slid a three-dollar pair of plastic sunglasses up her nose. "Found 'em!" she cried, tapping them into place with an index finger. While the frame was tomato-red, the round lenses were dark almost to the point of being opaque. "I had left the darn things on the shelf in the bathroom…"
"Good for you. But where did you leave the blanket and the cooler box?"
"Oh… crud," Stella said as she came to a screeching halt on her sandals. Rolling her eyes at herself behind the black lenses, she spun around and hurried over to the front door with a "Be right back!" flung over her shoulder.
Regina just shrugged and slithered her long frame into the tight confines of the SLK. Old habits have always had a tendency to die hard, so once she was down in the driver's seat, she flicked her hair back and cocked her head in such a fashion that the golden rays of the sun cast the Perfect Light onto her chin and prominent cheekbones.
---
Three minutes and forty-three seconds later, Stella dropped the rolled-up beach blanket and the fully stocked picnic cooler box down into the Mercedes SLK's tiny trunk. They had chosen one of their smallest coolers for that very reason, but it still proved a tight fit as she needed to shut the decklid three times to make the lock engage - the first attempt was accompanied by a snicker; the second by a snicker that was less enthusiastic on the whole, and the third and final attempt was accompanied by a growled, thinly veiled threat of tying the darn thing down with hemp rope if it didn't follow her command.
Regina had already started the Mercedes' engine, and while Stella transferred a bag of disguises to the Pacer's trunk - there just wasn't room for it in the SLK's tiny luggage space while the other two items were there - she calmly activated the feature that made the retractable roof fold up and disappear behind the seats. Once the sun visors had been raised to the upper stop to reduce the turbulence from the headwind, she attached her smartphone onto the appropriate holder on the dashboard.
Stella soon opened the door and dropped down into the low-slung sports car's bucket seat, wearing a broad grin that proved she was all set to have a fun day out bingo'ing.
"Look, Stell, I've already loaded the GPS app. This is us, see," Regina said, pointing at a blue dot, "and this is where we need to be going. The beach at the Old Promenade. We really ought to be able to get there without making any wrong turns anywhere."
"Mmmm-yeah…?" Stella said, lifting her three-dollar sunglasses to shoot Regina a look that said Wanna bet? "Well, if you say so and if that gee-pee-ess thingamabob says so, I guess we oughtta be," she said and reached for the seat belt to stop the infernal ding-ding-ding-ding-ding warning buzzer.
Grunting, Regina reversed out of the parking space and began to trickle down to the nearest busy street.
---
The traffic wasn't too bad yet at that time of the day so they were able to make good progress onto their destination. The radio was blasting away on their favorite oldies station, All Sixties, All The Time , and whenever a song came on they both knew, they held nothing back when it came to singing - or at least sha-la-la-ing - along to the bouncy or sweetly romantic beats of the era.
At the times where the oldies station went to a commercial break, Regina turned down the volume so they wouldn't be blown clear out of the car by the vast differences in sound compared to the regular level of the music. During one of those breaks, they came to a halt at an intersection where the traffic lights had just turned red. They were in the inner lane because they needed to turn right a few blocks down the street, and that meant they were in clear view of the pedestrians strolling along on the sidewalks of Bay City.
One of those people sent out an echoing wolf call at the two women in the low-slung SLK; Stella let out an annoyed grunt at the unwanted attention, but Regina milked it for all it was worth. Catching the Perfect Light all over again, she cocked her head to show off to the best of her abilities. The Panama hat was nudged back just a little to allow the regal brow to come into view, and she slipped the expensive sunglasses just a little down her nose to let her sparkling-blue orbs come into play.
Turning her head toward the sidewalk to give the wolf-caller her thanks, she came to a jerking halt when she realized her supposed fan was an old, unshaven bum in filthy, ill-fitting clothes. The old guy was pushing a shopping cart full of empty beer cans, and as Regina stared at him with a look of pure disbelief etched onto her face, he grinned at her to reveal he only had one tooth left in his entire mouth.
"The lights just turned green… we can go now," Stella said, pointing up at the gantry above the lane they were in. As expected, it didn't take more than four-tenths of a second before the car behind them began to honk. "Reggie? Reggie? Hustle before it turns red again… Reggie? Aw, man! Too late!"
The lights had just turned yellow when Regina mashed the gas and shot across the intersection to get away from her fan before a paparazzi could show up and get the cover scoop of the century.
Stella howled at the top of her lungs at the unexpected rocket launch, and she needed to clamp her hands down on her Happy Camper bucket hat simply to push herself into the seat. "Reggie! Really!" she croaked once the speed had come back down to thirty-five. "Whaddahell was that all about?"
"Did you see… that… that… bum?" Regina croaked as they zoomed away from the intersection.
"Well, yeah."
"Horr- horr- horrible!"
"Reggie," Stella said, reaching across the seats to pat her partner's endless thigh. "Welcome to the real world that's inhabited by real people with real problems. Some of us real people end up looking like that fella through no fault of our own. We don't have personal assistants powdering our foreheads and wiping our tushes twenty-four-seven like some I could mention. Yeah?"
"Horrible…"
Shaking her head, Stella turned the volume back up to get back to the singing. Doug, the primary DJ of the All Sixties, All The Time oldies station did all he could to breathe some Fun Fun Fun into the grand day out, and the episode was soon forgotten.
-*-*-*-
Even Stella had to admit the GPS app had come in handy for a change as they had experienced a problem-free trip through Bay City on their way to the non-descript parking lot by the wooden seaside promenade.
A hundred yards further toward the shore from the acres of pale-gray concrete and the hundreds of colorful cars that saw heat rising from the hot roofs as flickering disturbances in the air, the century-old, wooden buildings that had been built on the two-mile-long curved promenade had been given a fresh coat of retro-paint for the summer and were battling each other for top honors.
Above it all, the glorious blue sky stretched down to the horizon out over the Pacific Ocean. The seagulls shrieked, other waterfowls dined directly from the sand down by the edge of the water, and the gently rolling waves slapped rhythmically against the wooden beams holding up the old promenade.
The parking lot was more than three-quarters full by the time Regina drove the silver-metallic SLK over the speed bumps at the entrance. She had her sights firmly set on a spot not too far from the staircase down to the beach itself, and it didn't take her long to drive into it and turn off the engine. "What a fabulous day," she said, lowering her expensive shades to take in the full view of their surroundings.
"Uh-huh!" Stella said, already bouncing up and down in the seat in all her unbridled excitement. She had a manic grin plastered all over her face as she took in the vibrant colors, happy sounds and warm fragrances that assaulted her from everywhere at once. She cast a brief glance at the wooden building housing Victor's Amusement Arcade where she and Regina had had an unfortunate incident involving an air hockey puck, a biker, and the biker's spilled sodapop, but she cast that off at once to concentrate on the wonderful view.
A split second later, a gigantic black-and-gold thing raced into the parking space next to the low-slung SLK and robbed Stella of any possibility to enjoy the serenity of the moment. The aggressively styled Jeep Grand Cherokee whose off-road wheels were nearly as tall as the roofline of the Mercedes SLK came to a rocking halt that was matched every step of the way by the rocking beat that escaped from the rolled-down windows.
As the driver's-side door was flung open, a slick-haired, twenty-something beach boy wearing black shades, a loose t-shirt and shorts that were too tight on purpose jumped down from the tall vehicle.
"Well, excuse you!" Stella growled, but the young man had no time for her comments.
He was soon followed by several other guys of his age and what seemed to be half a co-ed college's worth of squealing beach bunnies in bikinis, wraparound sarongs or one-piece bathing suits. The driver and a similarly-dressed buddy soon opened the rear of the Jeep and hauled out large blankets, extra-extra-large cooler boxes, foldable chairs, parasols, brightly-colored beach balls, a foot-operated air pump that would cure any leaks in the beach balls, several SuperSoaker water rifles, a ghettoblaster, two disposable BBQ sets, several wrapped crates of breezers presumably thought of as a backup for when their coolers ran dry, and every other kind of equipment imaginable.
Stella could only provide a wide-eyed stare at the circus-like pandemonium that lasted for nearly three minutes before the loud beach boys and bunnies headed for the staircase that would take them down to the sandy shores. "Well," she said, scratching her neck under the Happy Camper hat, "I s'pose they're entitled to a fun day out with their friends too. Huh?"
"Mmmm," Regina said, just a little miffed over the fact that none of the four twenty-something men had spent as much as a quarter of a second admiring what she had to offer.
"Some of us prefer a quieter life… but okay, to each their own," Stella said, opening the passenger side door to begin the terrifying process known as Getting Out Of The SLK. Taking a deep breath, she rocked back and forth in the low bucket seat for several seconds before she shot up like a Stella-In-The-Box.
She so nearly made it - then gravity took over and she bumped back down into the seat. Her pale-green Happy Camper bucket hat was blown clean off and her shaggy mop of hair flew every which way but loose.
A surprised howl burst out of Regina who had already put her hand on Stella's seat expecting her partner to make it in one pass for a change.
"Ohfercryin'outloud! I hate this stupid car! Hateithateithateit!" Stella roared before she felt being felt-up. Snickering, she grabbed her Happy Camper hat and mashed it onto her locks; then she tried getting out again by grabbing hold of the frame for the windshield. The second attempt was more successful and she was able to get her sandals on the steaming-hot concrete. A quick peek down at her socks and then out at the warm sand made her grin and kick off her sandals at once. The Wonder Woman merchandising socks soon followed before she slipped her bare, blinding-white twinkletoes into the dusty-blue sandals once more.
Distinct scents of saltwater, the sand and the hot day in general permeated the air and made Stella take a breath so deep she needed to get up on tip-toes and stretch out her arms to have room for it all. "Ohhhh yeah!" she said once she got back down. "Watch out world, Stella Starr has arrived!"
Regina settled for chuckling as she closed the retractable roof and popped open the trunk. "Thanks for the warning, Stell. I'll take the cooler-"
"Naw! I'm a strong, independent, capable woman! The cooler is all mine, you can have the blanket… unless you feel it clashes with your garb there, oh Miss-Lawrence-of-Arabia…?"
"Ha ha. Cute. Very cute," Regina said and took out the cooler box so she could retrieve the rolled-up beach blanket that had been used as a protective cushion between the cooler's hard plastic and the trunk's exposed metal framework.
"Yikes Reggie, your wedge-heels are gonna give me a crimp in the neck today…" Stella said, looking down at the concrete surface when it dawned on her that the difference in height between them was even more pronounced than usual. The heels added another inch at least to Regina's already impressive six-foot-one frame, but the flat sandals that Stella wore didn't add anything to her five-foot-four-and-a-half inches - the half-inch was very important to her. "Of course, it also means I got the best view in the house," she continued when she looked up and found her nose just above Regina's ample chest.
"Cheeky. Verrry cheeky."
Stella just grinned as she reached for the cooler's handle and began to shuffle off to the wooden staircase that would take them a flight down to the place where it would all be happening.
---
Down on the sandy beach itself, a large number of children zipped around letting out squeals of joy as they played with each other under strict supervision from not only their parents but from professional life guards and the so-called Beach Patrol as well. The loud, twenty-something beach boys from the Grand Cherokee were already throwing Frisbees and footballs around while the bunnies cheered them on holding breezers equipped with little umbrellas. A fair number of spectators had lined up at a beach volleyball court watching a group of players who appeared to be pros. Others played soccer, but that was less-well organized and ended in constant squabbles and lost balls.
Stella and Regina walked past all that on their way to a section of the beach that had been cordoned off from the rest using two-foot-tall golden cones connected by red-and-white rope and demarcation tape. A red-and-white marquee tent covering the entire playing field was spread out between seventeen metal poles that looked like they could take a lot of abuse by the perpetual wind that came in from the vast Pacific Ocean.
Several tall flags on flexible poles carried the colors of the Family Bingo Group which confirmed it was the fabled Beach Bingo Bonanza. A dais and a few tables had been set up nearest the entrance, and four large picnic tables had been placed at the back part of the square for those players who needed a break between rounds. A sign stuck into the sand at the entrance informed the public that 'Cooler boxes and the contents of which are allowed on the premises, but only if due respect is served toward your fellow players when enjoying your food and beverages.'
Many people had shown up already and had claimed the best spots on the playing field by putting down their blankets; most of the bingo players seemed to know each other and were engaged in merry chatting before the first round would commence.
"Oh, this is gonna be so much fun! Sooooooooo much fun, Reggie!" Stella said as she took in the colorful scenery. She could barely contain her excitement, but the cooler box - which was growing heavier for each step she took in the soft sand - prevented her from showing it in her usual, inimitable style.
"Uh-huh?" Regina said, secretly looking forward to continuing her audio book rather than playing bingo.
Out of nowhere, they were stopped by two men wearing beach shorts and ill-fitting white-and-red t-shirts. Stella was about to open her mouth to offer them a joyous greeting when their scruffy looks made her clam up. A look at the company logo on their shirts revealed they came from the competing Fun With Bingo Group, not the Family Bingo Group that had issued the complimentary tickets. Grunting, she put down the cooler box while cocking her head and narrowing her eyes behind her cheap sunglasses.
"Yeah?" she said coolly, giving the two men a once-over while Regina came up to stand next to her.
The first of the men was tall with square features, and the other short and rotund. They were both in their mid-thirties and carried three-day stubble that gave them an air of carelessness rather than the fashionable appearance they were aiming for. The Fun With Bingo Group t-shirts they wore had been chosen with little care as well since one didn't even reach the tall man's waist, and the other had been pulled askew from being stretched so badly around the other man's wide gut.
The tall one seemed to be the leader of the two as he spoke first: "Hello, ladies. We at the Fun With Bingo Group would like to welcome you to the Bay City Beach Bingo Extravaganza." His voice was pleasant enough, but not only was it crystal clear that it was nothing more than a well-rehearsed speech, there was something unpleasant hiding just beneath it. "Are you regulars here, or is it your first time? If that's the case, we would like to offer you complimentary tickets to enter the Extravaganza and participate in the opening round."
The short, rotund man never spoke - he just smiled and nodded while his colleague performed their spiel.
Regina eyed the company logos displayed on the men's shirts; then she zoomed in on the logos on the flags that marked the corners of the playing field they had almost reached. She let out a short grunt as she worked out the details in her mind - there were obviously competing companies, and the two men were trying to lure them to the other one.
"This is our first time at a bingo event," Stella said, continuing to speak in frosty tones that the men didn't seem to pick up on, "and there is something we need your help with."
"Oh, anything!" the tall man said.
"I already have these…" - Stella reached into her pocket to find the print-outs from the Family Bingo Group's website - "complimentary tickets here. Now, this company name isn't the same as the one you just told me, but it is the same as the one right over there. This isn't yours?"
The two men shared a brief look. It was clear they had already written off the women as potential customers, and that they were waiting for an opportunity to move on. "No, those belong to an inferior company," the tall one said after exchanging a few more looks with his colleague. "Have a nice day, ladies," he continued and brushed past Stella without as much as a smile.
"Yeah, you too, pal!" Stella said, lifting her cheap sunglasses to shoot a dark glare at the retreating men. The odd encounter had kick started the familiar rivers of fire in her veins, but she settled for grinding her jaw a couple of times and mouthing a few well-chosen synonyms for 'what an unpleasant fellow.'
After letting out a huff, Stella picked up the cooler box and continued on toward the playing field belonging to the Family Bingo Group.
"Can you believe that?" Regina said, once more stuffing the beach blanket up under her arm. "I guess there are two companies here? Wow, that's almost scamming. Same colors except reversed… similar-sounding company names… and I'm guessing they have similar concepts."
"Mmmm! I saw that online as well. Boy, those dudes were lucky this is our day off! And I am calm. Calm. Calm and serene. Oh, isn't this a wonderful day? Calm and serene. Ommmmmmmm," Stella growled, beating down the stress-related toxins in her bloodstream by reciting one of the phrases invented by Guru Jackie, the spiritual and astral advisor on the highest rated call-in TV show on Channel Seventy-eight.
"I'm proud of you, dahling," Regina said with a grin, leaning in to bump shoulders with the shorter, and far more fiery, woman. A snicker and the early indications of a smile were her rewards.
-*-*-*-
Showing their self-printed complimentary tickets to the woman in charge at the entrance to the event organized by the Family Bingo Group offered no dramas, and Stella soon found what she considered the perfect spot for their first foray into the wonderful world of bingo'ing: it was near the center so they would be close to the picnic tables behind them when the little hunger knocked on the door, close to the dais and the table from where the emcee would conduct the game, and close - but not too close - to the loudspeakers so they would be able to hear the numbers being called without having their eardrums blasted to pieces.
Stella claimed the spot by putting down and spreading out their seven-by-seven foot beach blanket, humming the bouncy, timeless summer hit Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini that had been played at maximum volume when it had come on All Sixties, All The Time . The lid was soon pulled off the cooler box, and she dove into it to give herself a chilled treat in the shape of one of the new tastes the Slurrpy Company had introduced for the hot season: a Super Summer Sweet Apple Twist. After finding a foot-long, neon-green, twisty and loopy drinking straw in the cooler as well, she cracked open the can and inserted the straw. "Ahhhhhhhh!" she said after getting her first real taste of the new soda. Grinning at the positive experience, she kicked off her sandals and sat down cross-legged on the blanket while checking out her surroundings.
The air was warm, the contents of the cooler box were cold, the spirits of everyone present were high, and the risk of something going wrong was low. In short, life was good for Stella Starr for a change.
Regina seemed less enthusiastic about the whole thing. After she had handed Stella the beach blanket, the handful of free bingo cards and the bag of playing chips they had been given by the woman at the entrance, she took off her wedge-heeled pumps and made herself comfortable on the soft blanket.
Around them, excitement and tension continued to build as a digital clock on the dais entered the final five-minute countdown to the first round. The beach blankets were suddenly occupied by excited players which only added to the great mood at the Family Bingo Group's Beach Bingo Bonanza. Everybody got ready to kick off the event by spreading out their personalized bingo cards and their lucky playing chips - some of the latter were made of neon-colored glass, some were metal and some even appeared to be genuine amber.
Eyeing the competition, Stella noticed at once the people closest to them seemed to be highly experienced bingo'ists who could have up to eight gaming cards going at the same time. She grunted as she looked down at the single one she had put at her feet. Feeling bold, she took another from the small pile they had been given and hunkered down to do some serious bingo'ing.
As the tension mounted to sheer unbearable levels, she rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, stretched her arms and flexed her fingers to be ready for round one. She had no doubt it would be a stressful situation, but stressful situations were usually where she scored the biggest personal victories - or something.
"Haw, isn't this just the best?" Stella said, grinning from ear to ear after she had finished her warming-up routine.
"I'm happy you're happy," Regina replied, clicking open her purse to find her white smartphone.
Stella furrowed her brow as she eyed the impersonal electronic gizmo that made an unexpected entrance. "Wait… aren't you gonna play?"
"Ah, how can I put it. No," Regina said, unraveling her earphones that had turned into a bird's nest despite her best efforts of keeping them straight. The left one was soon mashed into her ear, and the right one was held ready for imminent insertion.
"But… but… I couldn't bribe you with a Slurrpy? How about a Smooth Apricot? It's really tasty and fruity, but not too sweet… you'd like it," Stella said, pointing at the cooler box.
"Not right now, thanks."
"Oh. Okay." When Stella realized she would be on her own for at least a while, she let out a short sigh and reached for the can of Super Summer Sweet Apple Twist to compensate for the disappointing development.
Shrugging, Regina inserted the other earphone as well and began swiping and tapping on her smartphone to load the audio book app. It didn't take long before she continued on from her last bookmark, and she was soon lost to the bingo-playing world.
The corners of Stella's mouth went downward for a brief moment even as she had her loopy drinking straw in her mouth. Her eyes traveled from Regina's face to the smartphone to the pristine bingo cards, back to the smartphone and finally up to Regina's face where a grin had already formed as a result of the funny story she was listening to.
The two women locked eyes for a few seconds; it wasn't much, but long enough for Regina to send Stella a message of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, Stella accepted her fate and emptied out her bag of playing chips instead of continuing the sulk.
As the digital clock on the dais entered the final ten seconds, all the experienced bingo players accompanied the countdown by calling the decreasing seconds out loud. Stella's funk was blown away by the fun, and she joined the others to yell along with the best of them.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand here we go, everybody!" a balding, round-faced man said as he stepped onto the dais holding a cordless microphone. In his mid-fifties, the man wore loafers, a pair of starkly-creased tan slacks, a white shirt where the top button was undone, and finally a red-and-white sports blazer that carried his company's logo on the left side of the chest. "I'm Aaron Finkelstein, the owner of the Family Bingo Group, and I would like to welcome you all to our event. Thank you for choosing the Beach Bingo Bonanza!"
All the players applauded, including Stella who stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that could have awaken Count Dracula even without removing the wooden stake from his chest. She realized it had been a bit too much when everyone else fell quiet and stared at her.
"Oh, we definitely have an enthusiastic set of players on hand today!" Aaron Finkelstein joked, waving at Stella who waved back wearing a sheepish look on her face. "Which is wonderful because that makes everything a little more entertaining for all involved! I'd like to introduce my emcee and his lovely assistant… oh, you all know them so well. Mr. Rosenberg and Mrs. Hastings. Give them a hand!"
Everyone applauded again as a sixty-something man and a woman who wasn't much younger stepped onto the dais and briefly waved or smiled at the players. The blond Carl Rosenberg wore a tan suit over a white shirt and a tan tie, and Bonnie Hastings wore a subdued, yellowish dress in an elegant cut.
Mrs. Hastings carried a large, wrapped package that she soon put on the table. As she removed the piece of protective cloth, it was revealed to be the bingo ball-randomizing-machine which drew another round of ooooohs , ahhhhhhhs and cheers from the experienced players.
"Before we begin," Aaron Finkelstein continued, "I would like to ask how many of you are beginners in the ancient game of bingo? Just raise your hands."
Stella's right hand shot skyward where she added a little wave just to make sure she was counted. Looking around, she could see that she wasn't the only rookie in the crowd - at least six others had a hand in the air.
"Thank you, everybody. You may take your arms down now," Aaron Finkelstein continued, turning off the cordless microphone and moving it away from his mouth as he leaned over to confer with Carl Rosenberg. The emcee nodded affirmatively before Aaron turned the microphone back on to say: "Round one is going to be classified as an introductory game for the benefit of those among our players who have yet to experience our favorite pastime in its full glory. All right, I hope you'll have fun today. Once again thank you for choosing the Beach Bingo Bonanza… and remember, bingo isn't just a game, it's the only game!"
The owner of the Family Bingo Group waited for the wave of laughs that rippled through the players to die down before he made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Mrs. Hastings, Mr. Rosenberg… take it away!"
"Yippie!" Stella cried, once again attracting more attention than she had expected. She blushed a little as a great number of eyes studied her, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as the bingo-ball-randomizing-apparatus began to blow a host of super-lightweight bingo balls through an intricate system of pathways using compressed air. Now and then, a ball would appear at the top of a chute. Bonnie Hastings would take it and hand it to Carl Rosenberg who would call the ball's number into his microphone.
It took four balls for Stella to get the first hit, but she celebrated it in true Stella Starr-style by pumping her fist in the air and letting out an enthusiastic "Oooooooooooh-yeah!" - It even made Regina chuckle out loud though she hadn't been paying that much attention to the whole thing.
---
Nine minutes' worth of playing time later, a cry of "Bingo!" echoed through the marquee tent, and someone on the opposite side of the colorful collection of beach blankets waved her hands in the air in celebration. Stella's only reply to that was a croaked "Uh-buh… whut?!" as she stared at her bingo card that had only become half-covered in playing chips.
Nearly all of the other players groaned and swept their boards clean to be ready for the next round. While the digital clock was reset to commence a countdown from five minutes that marked the break between rounds, three of the six beginners got up, folded up their beach blankets and headed for the exit - they were clearly not too impressed with the spectacle.
Stella furrowed her brow as she watched her fellow rookies walk away; she wouldn't dream of going anywhere now she had experienced the ancient game first hand. She had caught the bingo-bug big-time, and she would be darned if she was going to quit before they threw her out. To prepare for the next game, she took a cue from the experienced players around her and lined up her playing chips in numerical order rather than the unruly mess they had been in for the first round. That way, she would be able to transfer them from the pen to the board much faster.
While that was happening, Regina popped out an earphone and reached over to give Stella's back a little rub. "So… how it's going, Stell?"
"Pretty neat so far. I'm having a grrrrrrrreat time!"
"That's nice," Regina said and inserted the earphone at once - then she returned to her audio book.
Stella opened her mouth to reply, but she broke out in a shrug instead after noticing that Regina was once more lost to the world.
Merry chatting went on between the veterans of the game while they waited for the digital clock to reach the final stages of the break between rounds. Once it showed a remaining time of one minute thirty seconds, a red light began to flash to inform the players the next round was about to start.
Up on the dais, Carl Rosenberg turned on his microphone while he took a long look at the excited sea of humanity below him. "All right, ladies and gentlemen. This is round two. It will be played at regular speed," he said before he stepped back to wait out the final few seconds.
"At regular speed? That wasn't regular speed before?" Stella said, scratching her cheek. She looked at Regina for a possible explanation, but soon realized she wouldn't be getting one from the woman who was busy chuckling over a fun passage in her audio book. "Uh… okay… whatever. I guess I'll find out," she said, shuffling a few of her playing chips around.
When the digital clock reached zero, Carl Rosenberg signaled Bonnie Hastings to turn on the bingo-ball-randomizing-machinery. This time, everything seemed to be sped up by a factor of at least three, and Stella promptly lost her jaw.
"Nineteen." - "Twenty-six." - "Eighty-four."
Shaking off her stupor, Stella accepted the challenge and tried to keep up with the rapid calling by making her hand zip back and forth between her line of playing chips and the bingo card. "Nineteen… there. Twenty-six… there. Eighty-four… uhhhhh… nope. Darn. Oh! There it is! Aw yeah, I'm on a roll! Gonna win this one! Gonna win this one!"
She hoped she could match at least a good percentage of the numbers so she would stand a fighting chance at winning a prize, even if it could only be a consolatory one. Keeping up was hard going, but she managed - just. What she hadn't counted on was Carl Rosenberg increasing the tempo even further.
"Fifty-two." - "Four-four." - "Oh-three." - "Oh-nine." - "Twenty-eight."
Stella's eyes grew wider and wider as the game did its best to kick her behind; beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her hands went this way, that way, and every other way in the vain hope of keeping up. "Fif- fifty-two… forty-f- four… oh… ohhhhhh-three… Oy! Oy, oy, oy… OY!" she croaked, blinking several times to get the sweat out of her eyes.
"Three-three." - "Oh-six." - "Double-oh." - "Nine-nine." - "Seventy-one."
"Oy!"
"Ten." - "Thirty-four." - "Forty-eight." - "Thirty-nine." - "Twenty-seven." - "Forty-six." - "Seventy-four." - "Eighty-nine."
"Oy-oy-oy-oy!"
"Oh-two." - "Eleven." - "Twenty-five." - "Ninety-three-" - "Fifty-eight." - "Sixteen." - "Thirty-two." - "Fifty."
"Ho- ly Shhhh-"
"Sixty-three." - "Sixty-seven." - "Seventeen. Oh-five. Eight-eight. Twenty. Ninety-two. Eighty-seven. Sixty. Thirty-five."
"-Shhhhhi-!"
"Thirty-one. Two-two. Eighteen. Oh-one. Ninety-five. Thirty-eight. Fourteen. Oh-four. Twelve. Ninety-one. Twenty-nine. Twenty-four. Fifty-three. Seventy-"
"Holy shhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiit!" Stella cried, fumbling so hard with the playing chips, the bingo cards, the cooler box, Regina's wedge-heeled pumps, her cheap sunglasses, her Happy Camper bucket hat and everything else she had in front of her that she suffered a full-on systems overload: her head went one way, her hands moved in a completely different direction, and her legs and feet spasmed hard before they took off altogether.
Her bare right foot made an impact with the can of Slurrpy Super Summer Sweet Apple Twist and sent it tumbling end-over-end; the loopy drinking straw flew out and every last drop of the remaining sodapop poured out of the can and colored their beach blanket sickly-green. On her foot's rebound, the white cable that ran down to Regina's smartphone snagged between her big toe and the next one with the inevitable result that both earphones were yanked from their comfortable, elegant home.
"Owch! Stella!" Regina cried, clamping her hands over her ears as her audio book was snatched from her from one syllable to the next. Worse, the sneak attack had upset her hair, and she dove for her comb at once to get her dark locks back in good order.
Stella didn't have time for such trivialities. She was far too busy falling flat on her back with her eyes rolling freely in her head and her arms stretched out to either side of her. The fingers on her right hand continued to twitch and flex like they were trying to grasp the playing chips, but they eventually slowed down and came to a halt. "Gaaaa-haw-haw-haawd! Oy, oy, oy, oy-oy-oy…" she croaked while she stared up at the inner ceiling of the marquee tent with eyes that only slowly returned to normal.
As the seven or so dimensions she had experienced gradually gave way to the colors and sounds of the regular three, her chest heaved like she had just finished the Bay City marathon in record time. She let out a hoarse snicker at the sensation of someone tickling her bare feet, but it was only Regina who tried to retrieve the cable for her earphones by unraveling the knot and pulling it free from its prison between Stella's toes - it finally came loose with an audible plopp!
All the hubbub Stella had caused hadn't even stopped the game in progress - that didn't happen until someone cried "Bingo!" from somewhere under the marquee tent. The veteran players all groaned as usual and got ready for the next round by cleaning their bingo cards, but Stella had had enough excitement for a while and rolled over onto her knees so she could get back to sitting cross-legged on the stained beach blanket.
Staring at the sickly-green residue on the blanket with an annoyed look on her face, she picked up the empty can of Super Summer Sweet Apple Twist in the hope she could squeeze just a single drop out of it - alas, she had no such luck. "Reggie, you hungry? I could eat," she said and threw the empty can into the cooler box so they could send it to recycling later.
When Regina didn't reply, Stella cast a puzzled glance at her friend, business associate and romantic partner. A sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a grunt escaped her when she realized that Regina had moved the Panama hat around so it covered her face. "Oh, Reggie… you get embarrassed too easily, Snookums. We have to work on that when we get home. This little incident? Pah, that was nothing," she said with a grin as she reached into the cooler and rummaged around for a treat. It didn't take her long to find a wrapped sandwich that contained a thick slice of a German rural specialty known as a beerwurst sausage, and several narrower slices of juicy, crunchy, green bell peppers. Her clear intent was to Unwrap-And-Chow-Down-Like-A-Manic-Mama, but she changed her mind when one of the picnic tables behind them became available.
"That's our cue! C'mon!" Stella cried, jumping up from the stained blanket. In her haste, she hadn't noticed that the cable for the smartphone had snagged on the handle of the cooler box.
When the cooler was grabbed and moved away in a hurry, Regina's earphones went with it and were yanked from the elegant ears all over again. This time, the yanking not only upset the dark locks but blew off the Panama hat as well - and Regina had very little positive to say about either.
*
*
CHAPTER 4
"I wish you'd lose that frown, Reggie. Ain't this great?" Stella said before she stuffed her face with a third of the beerwurst-and-bell-pepper sandwich in one go. She munch-munch-munched on it with great relish while she inched around on the bench at the picnic table to cast a fascinated look at the experienced bingo'ists around them. The others were busy getting prepared to start the next round, but one or two of them still had their heads together while whispering and pointing at Stella and Regina.
Regina mumbled a few unintelligible words while she nursed a can of carbonated mineral water and stabbed a plastic fork into a bowl containing a small, nourishing salad that she had mixed herself. Now and then, she reached up to massage her abused earlobes.
"Whassat, honey? Speak up, I can't hear anything while I'm chowing!"
"I said… no, never mind. Forget it," Regina mumbled, concentrating on her salad instead of speaking her mind.
Stella just shrugged - she knew that whenever Regina was in such a mood, it was better for all concerned if she was allowed to go inside herself and deal with it on her own until it passed. Of course, such an approach was rarely compatible with how Stella Starr conducted her business - and even less so when the environment around them was so exciting.
A can of Slurrpy Smooth Apricot was soon cracked open and sucked on noisily through the foot-long, neon-green drinking straw. "Oh, yum!" Stella said, wiping a few orange-tinted droplets off her lips and chin. Holding up the can, she tapped a fingernail against the logo so Regina could see it. "This is the one I was telling you about… Slurrpy's new Smooth Apricot. It's got the awesome-yum-thing down pat, I can tell you! Real smooth and fruity and just plain ol' delicious."
Mumble, mumble.
"Whassat?"
"I said, isn't that nice!" Regina growled before she returned to her salad.
"Right," Stella said, baring her teeth in a grimace before the Smooth Apricot called out to her once more.
On the dais, Carl Rosenberg began the next round of bingo. The randomizing machine popped out balls at short intervals that Bonnie Hastings handed the veteran emcee who continued going at the same break-neck pace that had caused Stella's meltdown.
Snickering at the way she had underestimated the challenge of bingo, Stella turned back to the table and their cooler box. Reaching into it, she scooped up a new sandwich: it was a double-decker that had been made of three slices of toasted multi-grain bread that framed a single slice of strong cheese and two slices of juicy, high-quality smoked ham on either side of the central slice of bread - and all three were coated in sweet mustard.
The can of Slurrpy Smooth Apricot was soon emptied and put back in the box. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to try one of the great new tastes, Reggie? We have Cherry Cola Extra Cherry, Super Summer Sweet Apple Twist, Pineapple & Papaya Perfection, another Smooth Apricot, Sporty Green, Sporty Red, Sporty Blue, Sporty Yellow, Orange Squash, South Seas Exotic Fruit Squash, another Cherry Cola Extra Cherry… a couple of Raspberry Fizzes, a regular Cherry Cola, a regular Classic Cola and a… huh? A Diet Raspberry Fizz?! Where did that come from?"
"I picked that," Regina mumbled.
"Well, I definitely won't steal it from ya," Stella said and broke out in a loud laugh. When her friend didn't seem to find the humorous comment funny in the least, she stuffed half the double-decker sandwich into her yap and chewed on it so hard that her entire face got a workout. A Slurrpy Sporty Blue was soon chosen and cracked open. Once the foot-long drinking straw had been stuck into it, she went to work sucking up the blue, bubbly liquid that had a taste she couldn't quite identify but that she liked so much it didn't matter what it was trying to resemble.
A few moments passed before Regina reached into the cooler box and took the can of Slurrpy Diet Raspberry Fizz. Cracking it open with her metal clippers that she always had in her purse for that very purpose so she could protect her precious fingernails, she took a short sip of the pale-burgundy liquid. "Speaking of persuading you to try something, Stell…"
"Uh-mmpfhh-huh-mmpfhh?"
"I wish you'd cut down a little on your intake of white sugar… especially in liquid form. I mean, the diet sodas these days are much, much better than they used to be," Regina continued, turning the can around between her fingers to underline her point. "You can't tell the difference at all now when it comes to taste."
"Aw-haw, you better-" - munch, munch - "believe I can tell-" - munch, munch - "the difference!" Stella said and let out a dark grunt. "The diet sodas have-" - munch, munch - "such an annoying, artificial aftertaste-" - munch, munch - "I need to brush my-" - munch, munch - "teeth three times after drinking half-" - munch, munch, gulp! -"a can. Even that isn't enough sometimes!"
"Well, I don't think so."
"But I do. So there."
Shrugging, Regina took a long sip of the diet Razzie. "And I presume I can't persuade you to sample a bite of my salad either?"
Stella leaned forward to look into the bowl. She was able to identify raisins, iceberg lettuce leaves and grated carrots, but then there were vaguely white chunks of something and vaguely brown chunks of something else that she had no idea what could be. Then she looked down at her multi-grain, cheese, top-quality smoked ham and sweet mustard double-decker sandwich that was infinitely yummier. "Ah. Thanks. But no thanks."
"Suit yourself."
Someone cried "Bingo!" which made the other players groan out loud. Stella just chuckled; it had become crystal clear to her that bingo was a drug that had a stronger hook than even the Meaty Mamas she cared so much for.
The double-decker sandwich was soon but a distant memory. After rummaging around in the cooler box for a short while, Stella had just found a new one - a halved Italian ciabatta bread featuring chunks of fried chicken and sliced pepperonis on a thick layer of Teresa Maddalena's Spiced Bolognese Tomato Spread - when a commotion at the dais interrupted her eating.
A female voice cried out. Judging by the volume and pitch, it wasn't a cry of victory but rather one of surprise and a negative one at that. A second female voice joined the chorus of annoyed yelling. As Stella inched around on the bench at the picnic table to see what was going on, Carl Rosenberg ran over to the two upset women - it was his assistant Bonnie Hastings and the winner of the round that had just finished - to see what was going on.
In the confusion, he had forgotten to turn off his microphone so the entire group of bingo players heard the typical sounds of a scuffle breaking out behind the stage. Then he said: "Get outta here, ya lazy beach bums! And don't come back!" in a voice that was far less polished than the silky smooth one he used when calling the numbers.
"Hmmm…" Regina said, putting down the plastic fork, "that's got all the hallmarks of trouble."
A kerfuffle followed from somewhere behind the dais. Bonnie Hastings cried out again almost like she had received a rude shove from someone. Carl Rosenberg's barked reply came over the loudspeakers at once: "Get your hands off her, buddy! You do that again and I'll-"
More sounds of a physical struggle were heard. Then Bonnie cried out: "The prizes! Stop him! Stop- that man stole all the prizes! Somebody stop him!" boomed out of the loudspeakers after her cry had been picked up by the active cordless microphone that Carl still held.
The surprising announcement made a strong wave of unrest ripple through the crowd of players, including the two women at the picnic table. "Let's go, Stell! It's Harrison-Starr to the rescue!" Regina said and jumped up from the picnic table.
"But my ciabatta sandwich! It's got Teresa Madda- aw, flippety-flop," Stella said, staring at the tall, graceful figure stomping towards the dais. "Always when I'm eating! Alllll-ways when I'm eating…" she growled, letting out a deep sigh as she dropped the pepperoni-and-chicken ciabatta sandwich back into the cooler box - she hadn't even had time to unwrap it. She wasn't about to let the can of Slurrpy Sporty Blue go to waste, so she stuck the straw between her lips and sucked for all she was worth while she got to her feet.
A flash of inspiration made her step up on the bench so the bingo players around her would be able to get a full view of the important announcement she was about to make. "Okay, okay… uh… now hear this!" she said in a strong voice though only a few of the people around her paid any attention to her. "Me and my friend are just gonna go up there and get this mess sorted. You don't need to worry about us 'cos we are professionals and we know what we are doing. But! While we do that, I'm gonna leave my cooler box with my sandwiches and my sodas right here, okay? And I'm asking you… no, I am begging you not to move it or take it or do anything with it that will mean I can't find it when we return 'cos that'll make me so un-be-flippingly-mad, and I'm talking emm-aye-dee mad, you understand? That would make me so mad that I-"
"Stella! You coming or what?" Regina yelled from her present spot at the dais.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Stella cried back, waving her can of Sporty Blue in the air - predictably, some of it slushed over the rim and onto the picnic table below. She needed to conclude her plea, so she turned back to the bingo players and held her arms out wide. "Pleeeeeeease, people… don't mess with my food. Okay? Okay? Pleeeeeeease… thank you. Uh… this has been a public service announcement. I'm coming, Reggie!" she cried before she jumped down onto the sand, grabbed her Happy Camper bucket hat and hustled up toward the other end of the playing field.
---
Stella had barely joined Regina at the dais before Aaron Finkelstein came hurrying over from a nearby tent with his arms flailing in the air at the outrage. Soon, he and his two employees were engaged in such a wild, loud, overlapping conversation that even the fast-talking Stella Starr couldn't keep up with the frantic yapping despite emptying the can of Slurrpy Sporty Blue in a single suck to get her energy levels up into the red - or blue - zone.
Her head whipped back and forth from one speaker to the next, back to the first, onto the third, back to the first, onto the second, back to the third and then back to the first in a constant barrage of utter confusion. "Whoa… what a blip-bloppin' mess," she croaked, slamming her free hand down onto her Happy Camper bucket hat to keep it from flying off with her brain attached to it.
"Lady and gentlemen, please!" Regina said so strongly that all three of the people from the Family Bingo Group piped down to stare at her. "I am Regina Harrison and this is my business associate Stella Starr. We're from the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency and it's clear you have a serious situation here. I heard theft being mentioned. We have years of experience dealing with these things, so we can help you. One at a time, please. Mr. Finkelstein?"
Stella's jaw fell down to her chest at the undeniable command presence that flowed naturally from Regina. This was definitely the woman who had managed her own top-line career for years even down to the nitty-gritty of organizing itineraries, and negotiating contracts and salaries with various lemon-sucking penny-pinchers. Gathering it all up, Stella let out a goofy grin and shuffled around on the spot for a few moments while the pleasant buzz she had experienced faded out.
"Miss Harrison. Miss Starr. We're glad you're here," the owner of the Family Bingo Group said as he stepped forward. After mopping his damp brow on a white handkerchief, he put out his hand and shook Regina and Stella's in the traditional greeting. "Oh, this is a bad, bad deal… it seems we have been the victim of a crime. I wasn't here, but Mrs. Hastings and Mr. Rosenberg were. Bonnie, please let Miss Harrison know exactly what happened here."
Regina and Stella shot each other a look that showed they were all down to business now. Stella hadn't brought her indispensable notepad and pencil since it was supposed to be their day off, but Regina activated the voice recorder app on her smartphone and held it up. "This is to keep a precise record of your statement, Mrs. Hastings," she said as the older woman gave a puzzled, apprehensive look at the electronic gizmo.
"Oh… I see. Do I need to speak up, or…?" Bonnie Hastings said. Up close, it was revealed she was closer to seventy than sixty. It appeared she'd had cosmetic surgery to improve her eyelids and perhaps her cheeks and nose as well at some point within the last decade, but the gentle operations had worked and had left her quite attractive.
"No, this is fine, Mrs. Hastings. Go on," Regina said with a smile.
Bonnie eyed Aaron Finkelstein who nodded as if to say it was all right. "Well… after the bingo round had finished, I went back to the table that held the prizes to make it presentable for the winner like I always do. I spotted two men… I would call them beach bums… loitering near the table. I didn't like their looks, but I didn't want to start anything either."
Regina nodded. "That's understandable."
"When the winner of the round joined me at the table to select her prize, the two men suddenly approached us. I must admit I felt threatened so I cried out. The winner did too. It alerted Mr. Rosenberg who joined us. One of the loitering men gave me a hard shove to get me away from the table while the other scooped up all the prizes and threw them into a large bag. They ran off further down the beach once they were done… and… God. It was very, very unpleasant…"
"I'm sure it was. Have you seen these men before, Mrs. Hastings?"
"No, but this is only my third day here… perhaps Mr. Rosenberg has?" Bonnie said and turned to the emcee.
Carl Rosenberg shook his head. His blond hair never moved which proved that he had either used a huge amount of gel after he had dyed it, or that it was a toupee. "I'm afraid not. I've never clapped eyes on them before."
"These beach bums," Stella said, "can you describe them?"
"Y- yes…" Bonnie said, "one was tall and… oh, I don't know if I'm allowed to call anyone ugly these days, but he was ugly. And the other was short and fat. And they were both unshaven. Greasy hair, too. Unpleasant types."
"Real bruisers," Carl added.
Stella not only narrowed her eyes but clenched her fists as well. She growled under her breath for a few seconds before she turned to Regina who was busy stopping the recording so it could be saved. "I don't believe it… Reggie! That's the same couple-a no-good bums who tried to scam us when we got here!"
"Yeah. Sounds like it. From the Fun With Bingo Group."
"Mmmmh!"
Hearing about the aggressive criminals potentially working for the competing Fun With Bingo Group made Aaron Finkelstein break out in a nervous grimace. He started wringing his hands to such an extent that Stella became suspicious of his behavior.
"Is there something you would like to tell us, Mr. Finkelstein?" she said sharply. While Aaron continued to fidget, Carl Rosenberg and Bonnie Hastings both turned to give their employer identical looks of disbelief.
"Ah, well… ah… oh, this is somewhat embarrassing…" Mr. Finkelstein croaked, looking in turn at each of the four people staring at him. None of the four pairs of eyes that looked back at him seemed overly friendly at that exact moment in time which only worsened his fidgeting; in addition to wringing his hands, he licked his lips and glanced down at his shoes. "Well, the Fun With Bingo Group is owned by my twin brother Benjamin."
"Well, rip-a-rat-a-new-one… now I think I've heard everything!" Stella said, having to do a double-take at the surprising news.
Regina grunted and activated the voice recorder app again - the following would probably be too good to miss.
"Ah, yes," Aaron continued, licking his lips all over again though he did stop wringing his hands. "You see… we come from a long line of bingo organizers. Eleven generations now-"
"Get outta town! A bingo dynasty?! Holy flip-floppa-rooney!" Stella suddenly cried loud enough to spook the others. Even Regina jumped at the unexpected volume and nearly dropped the smartphone.
Aaron Finkelstein grimaced all through relaying the improbable story: "Ah… yes. I'm the oldest twin by four minutes. And it has never sat well with Benjamin. He has always felt he has a fresher, better approach to the bingo events than I do… so… he wanted to take over the family business once we were old enough. Our father wouldn't allow it, so… Benjamin started his own bingo enterprise, the Fun With Bingo Group."
Stella was about to make a comment when Mr. Finkelstein continued: "Oh, we've been at loggerheads for years. Wherever we show up, he's never far behind with his own marquee tent. And… there have… well, there have been a few juvenile tit-for-tat incidents going on between us and the roadies we hire. I have to admit that. But never anything like this!"
"And now he's turned to a life of crime," Stella said at a reduced volume.
"I can't believe that! He doesn't need to. He's been right all along… his ideas are better. More in tune with what the bingo-playing public wants these days. To tell you the truth, Miss Starr, his business is probably doing better than mine is."
Carl Rosenberg and Bonnie Hastings let out identical grunts and shot each other gloomy looks as they heard that.
"Well," Regina said, "what happened here today paints a different picture, Mr. Finkelstein. The two men Mrs. Hastings described before wore Fun With Bingo Group company logos on their clothing. Miss Starr and I know that for a fact because we spoke to them before the event began. Are they perhaps among your brother's roadies?"
"Oh, I d- don't know… perhaps. It's unfathomable," Aaron mumbled, wringing his hands all over again. He let out a deep sigh and fell silent.
While Aaron, Carl and Bonnie withdrew to speak among themselves, Stella tugged at Regina's bright-white sleeve to make her shuffle to the side. "Brother against brother… it's such a classic," she said quietly. "Do you have any preferences on how we're gonna play this?"
"Yeah. I'm suggesting we call Inspector Moynes," Regina said, rubbing her chin.
"Oh, hell no, Reggie! Call for backup before we've even checked out the fat bug at the center of the web? No, no, no. Not with Stella Starr and Regina Harrison on the case! Do you know what I'm thinking we should do?"
"Shoot."
"Uh… that's not what I'm thinking, Reggie… I'm not good with firearms 'cos I hate loud, sudden… noises… and…" Stella said while a maze of deep furrows formed on her brow. She had time to blink a couple of times before the meaning of Regina's comment filtered through to her. "Never mind. I'm thinking that we should mosey over there to check out the Fun With Bingo Group. We may get lucky and bump into those fellas again."
The look on Regina's face proved she wasn't too hot on that particular outcome of the situation - not after hearing that the men weren't adverse to giving people rude shoves while conducting their criminal business. "Mmmm… I don't know. You consider that getting lucky?"
"Heh… good point. But we need to get this mess back on the right track so the good bingo empire can conquer the bad bingo empire… to mix a few metaphors."
"Actually, that's not a mixed-"
"Not now, Reggie. We have bad guys to bust," Stella said and moved away from her business associate. "Mr. Finkelstein, may I have another word?" she continued, not noticing the severe eye-rolling that Regina shot her.
Aaron excused himself from his employees to meet Stella at the halfway point between them. "Yes, Miss Starr?"
"We need to know exactly what was stolen so we know what to look for. I was… uh…" - she scratched her cheek - "I wasn't fortunate enough to ever get up to the prize table so I don't know what kind of items you had here today."
"Oh!" Carl and Bonnie said at the same time. They smiled at each other before Carl held out his hand to allow Bonnie to make the comment: "All the prizes carry a hidden security sticker, Miss Starr… the Family Bingo Group's company logo. It can obviously come off, but it takes a bit of effort if you don't know the proper way to do it. I can't imagine those two thugs would want to bother themselves with that."
"Ah-ha! Excellen-ty!" Stella cried. "You'll need to excuse us, Mr. Finkelstein. Mr. Rosenberg. Mrs. Hastings. Me and Miss Harrison… my junior business associate… need to do some serious investigating now. C'mon, Reggie!" Spinning around on her sandaled heel, Stella stomped back down to the picnic table to grab their cooler box with all its precious cargo - then she stomped away from the shade provided by the marquee tent and back out onto the hot beach itself.
Regina had been left alone by the decisive action; alone and needing to explain yet another instance of Stella Starr being Stella Starr to a group of flabbergasted people who had been left bobbing in the wake of the whirlwind blonde. She discarded a few stock phrases before she came up with one she thought would work well: "Detective business. I'm afraid I can't divulge too much information," she tried, but the blank looks she got in return proved the message hadn't really come across.
"Oh, Stell," she groaned under her breath after thanking, shaking hands with, and moving away from the three people they had spoken to.
-*-*-*-
Regina caught up with Stella a few minutes later. When they met, the senior investigator paced around in a circle by the SLK while drinking a Slurrpy Cherry Cola and chowing down the pepperoni-fried chicken- Teresa Maddalena Spiced Bolognese Tomato Spread ciabatta sandwich she had been cheated out of before.
The parking lot had filled up to capacity while they had been away, and several family-sized station wagons had lined up in a holding pattern in the hope that the pacing woman was about to get into her car and drive off so a spot would become available. It didn't help that the broad-shouldered Jeep Grand Cherokee that was still parked next to the low-slung sports car took up two spaces because the youthful owner hadn't bothered to park precisely - at least he had been given a parking ticket for not respecting the yellow lines on the concrete.
"Stell…" Regina tried, but she was cut off at once:
"Well, you sure-" - munch, munch, slurp - "took your sweet time-" - munch, slurp, munch - "gettin' here! We got-" - slurp, munch, munch - "work to do, Reggie… now pop-" - munch, SLURP, munch - "open the trunk so-" - SLURP, munch, munch - "I can select a-" - munch, munch, SLURP, munchmunchmunch, gulp! - "good disguise."
"A disguise? In this crazy heat?" Regina said and pressed the button on the key fob which made the trunk click open. Behind them, the first of the waiting station wagons rolled past while the driver tried to calm down the seething wife next to him and the pack of howling kids in the back; the next station wagon didn't even bother to wait but trickled past at once.
Licking her fingers clean of the last of the tasty Teresa Maddalena-sauce, Stella looked at the waves of heat that rose from the concrete and the roofs of the cars, and then up at the beaming sun like she had only just noticed it. "Yeah, it's probably gonna get a little hot… but a private investigator has to endure the unendurable… expect the unexpected… sniff the unsniffable… suffer the insufferable… go for hours without food or drink… learn to do a number two in the bushes on lengthy stakeouts…"
"Oh Gawd, Stella!"
"Sorry," Stella said, snickering loudly before she turned her attention to the trunk of the Mercedes SLK. Then it struck her - they didn't have any of their regular costumes at hand. The need to fit the cooler box and the beach blanket into the tiny trunk had caused her to take out the bag of disguises she always kept in there as a backup. She had transferred it to the rear of her Pacer, but that didn't help her much in the present situation. "Oh… flippety-blip-blop," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.
"Yeah, I was about to say that you moved the bag to the Pacer, Stell," Regina said, peeking over Stella's shoulder at the empty trunk.
Stella rubbed her brow furiously while she tried to come up with a plan that could work. She created, then evaluated, then dropped a good handful within the space of two minutes or so, but ultimately she had to admit defeat. "Well… hmmm… yeah… okay… no. Rusty bells. We need to improvise… but how? And with what?" she said as she glanced around the full parking lot.
When no bright ideas came to her, she broke out in a wide shrug and looked to Regina for suggestions - unfortunately, it seemed the other member of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency had nothing to add.
At least not until Regina suddenly snapped her fingers and dove into the back part of the trunk. She rummaged around in there for a short while before she found a plastic bag containing what appeared to be pale-blue fabric. A click-lock held the plastic bag together, but it was quickly dealt with so she could pull out the fabric.
"Wo-hooo! Reggie, you big, wonderful stick o' crunchy celery!" Stella cried as she took in the sight of the pale-blue mechanic's overall that had been stored in the bag. "Aww-right! The oh-fficial repair kit! It's even got a three-pointed star on the back and everything… now why didn't I think of that? Who does it fit? Me or you?"
"You," Regina said, holding up one of the sleeves that hardly came to her elbow.
"That is just super-duper-neat! And! And you'll never guess what I just thought of," Stella continued and hurried over to the passenger-side door. Opening it, she scooped out the contents of the glovebox.
Next to a half-melted roll of Oreo's, a pile of napkins from Uncle Greezy's Family Restaurant and the various random doo-dads that can be found littering any glovebox, she picked out a full beard. Not one of the modern ones that actually looked like real hair and that needed to be glued onto her skin, but one of the old-fashioned ones that had bushy eyebrows, a pair of plastic, lens-less spectacles and a fake, bulbous nose permanently attached to it.
The surveillance-special wasn't among the latest trends in costume designs, but at least the pair of strings that needed to be tied behind her ears were taut so the beard wouldn't slip down at the worst moment like those held in place by glue were prone to. "Score one for Team Stella!" she said, holding up the fake beard as she stepped back from the car.
"Mmmm-yeah… you really think that's gonna work?" Regina said, almost needing to shield her eyes as she squinted at the plastic abomination.
"Yep!"
"Well… it's gonna be awfully hot for you, Stell. You better take a can or two of Slurrpy Cherry Cola Extra Cola along for the job," Regina said with a grin, surrendering to the silliness of the situation. Only using a single of her long strides, she was at Stella's side in an instant; once there, she pulled the fiery woman into a sideways hug so a quick peck could be delivered onto the smooth cheek before the horribly fake beard would occupy that spot.
"You betcha! And it's called Cherry Cola Extra Cherry, you goof!" Stella said, quickly storing the cooler box in the back of the SLK so the remaining eight top-quality sandwiches wouldn't go to waste from being baked by the boiling-hot concrete. When she realized there was room to spare in the trunk, she looked around for the missing item. "Hey, wait a minute… what happened to our beach blanket?"
"Oh, I left it behind," Regina said casually as she adjusted her straw Panama hat. When Stella just stared at her, she continued: "The soda-stain was still wet. I sincerely hope you didn't expect me to risk getting my suit stained. This is an original Giacomo Laurentii, you know."
"But that was a ten-dollar blanket!"
"And this is a thousand-dollar pantsuit, Stell," Regina said, flicking a piece of non-existent fluff off her lapel.
Stella blinked a couple of times as she processed the insane prices of the clothing Regina favored compared to her own, far cheaper garb; then she shrugged and moved onto the disguise. Taking the pale-blue costume, she had already fluffed it out so she could slip it over her regular garments when she slowed down and came to a halt. "Houston, we have a problem…" she said with one leg already down the overalls and the other suspended in mid-air.
"What? Is it too tight?" Regina said with a grin.
"Oh, haw haw! I'll remember that… no. How will I contact you, Reggie? I left my phone back home… I didn't think we'd need it today."
"Well-"
Stella pulled her leg back out of the overall so she would have her hands free to wave around while she went through one of her infamous monologues. "On one hand, this is a mess," she said and literally held up one hand. Right on cue, the other one came up as well. "On the other, it's an even bigger mess."
Just after that, she began to pace around in a circle between the silver-metallic SLK and the black-and-gold Jeep. "On the third hand, we do have a solution ready and waiting, but that won't work. Okay… okay, I need to think. I need to think…"
"You've lost me completely, Stell," Regina said while scratching her head.
Stella either hadn't heard the comment or had failed to pay attention to it because she never stopped waving her hands or pacing around in a circle. "If I get your phone, I can call you… but then I wouldn't be able to call you 'cos your phone is here with me and not where you are unless you come with me, and then there's no need for me to call anyone. Oh, the humanity! Well, that's out of the picture 'cos they'll recognize you at once, you tall stick of liquorice."
"So now I'm a tall stick of-"
"But! But what if I called Mr. Finkelstein's telephone… he's bound to have a telephone… everybody seems to have a telephone glued to their ears at all times even tho' several international studies have shown that dangerous, brain-melting levels of radiation still can't be ruled out."
"Stella…"
"But anyway, he's bound to have a telephone. I could call his telephone and then he could pass on the information to you… but I don't know his number and with my legendary luck I'd end up in trouble with those goons and you wouldn't be able to get to me in time and I might end up as a blond door stop or sleep with the fishes or buy the farm or worse. No, that won't work either."
"Yeah, but-"
"Oh! Oh, duh! He called us at the office so we've… gotta… have… his… number… no, we don't 'cos he called us on the old landline. A payphone? There's gotta be a payphone somewhere around here I could use. Payphone?"
"Stella-"
"Where's my payphone? Paging Doctor Payphone… Doctor Payphone to the ER, STAT!"
"Stella-"
"No payphones anywhere… rats. Why did they have to remove the payphones, Reggie? What if there's an earthquake or an electrical storm or a hurricane or an EMT-"
"EMP-"
"-pulse or a fifty-foot tsoo- uh… shoe-name-eee… uh… umami… killer wave, or just a spectacular sunset or something and the telephone grid goes down? What'll people do if they don't have payphones so they can call around and tell their friends and favorite aunts they're safe… yeah, okay… if the grid goes down, the payphones won't work either. Durn! Gawd, it's hot here… I can feel my brains melting."
"I'll say," Regina mumbled under her breath. While Stella flew off on another lengthy monologue about the far greater value of classic landlines compared to the modern cellular technology, she calmly reached into her purse to find her smartphone. A few swipes and taps later, she found Aaron Finkelstein's number in one of the online registries. The number was soon added to the local registry with very little hassle and zero drama whatsoever. "Here," she said, thrusting her smartphone into the raving Stella's hands.
"Huh…? Didn't you hear me, Reggie? I said that if I had your telephone-"
"Oh, I heard you loud and clear. Believe me. And now Mr. Finkelstein's number has been added to the registry. After you've changed into the disguise but before you get going, I'll hurry back to the bingo tent and ask him if he has his phone at hand. If he does, I'll borrow it and be your wingman. Or wingwoman, to be precise."
"Ohhhhhh, that's so clever, Reggie!" Stella said while a broad grin spread over her features. "Huh, I always knew I'd be able to get something of value into that pretty, ol' noggin' of yours. Neat! Okay, I guess the curtain's about to go up so we can get down and boogie! Awww-yeah, boogie down to some good, old-fashioned, honest detective work… un-der-co-ver, baby! Speaking of curtain… if you go and see Mr. Finkelstein, you might as well take our blanket back with you!"
"I'll consider it, Stell… if, and that's if, the stain has dried. If not, I'll buy you a new one."
"Oh… okay. Well… I suppose that would be a fair deal," Stella said, nodding thoughtfully before she turned back to test the disguise.
---
Just shy of twelve minutes later, a short, slender person dressed in a pale-blue overall, a green Happy Camper bucket hat and blue beach sandals shuffled across the sand en route to the marquee tent where the Fun With Bingo Group's Beach Bingo Extravaganza took place. The world at large believed the person to be a man based on the bushy eyebrows, the bulbous nose and the long, black beard, but his bare ankles and feet seemed somewhat feminine.
When he shuffled past the spot where Victor's Amusement Arcade was located up on the wooden promenade, he stood up on tip-toes to take in as much as he could of the rich scents that wafted down toward him from the goings-on inside the old building. "Mmmm… popcorn…" the man said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Homer Simpson's.
Carrying on, the man soon reached the white-and-red marquee tent belonging to the Fun With Bingo Group. The section of the beach saw a good crowd of merry bingo players who seemed to have just as much fun - if not more - as those who had been participating in the event run by the Family Bingo Group a bit further up the beach.
It seemed they were in an extended break between rounds as a lounge crooner entertained the spectators with a few golden evergreens from the 1950s. At present, he tried to get everyone to sing along to the chorus of Eileen Barton's classic novelty hit If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd've Baked A Cake , but the song was a tough sell and his success rate wasn't too impressive.
The bearded man clad in the pale-blue overall just sort-of loitered there, humming along to the novelty hit while collecting as much intelligence as he possibly could. Though he hadn't yet found any smoking gun that could be connected with the theft from the Family Bingo Group's prize table, he noted that most everything at the large tent was a perfect copy of the one belonging to the other twin: the colors had been reversed, but that was the only major difference save for the addition of the lounge crooner.
Panting from the relentless onslaught of the shimmering heat, Stella needed to move the fake beard away from her face for a few seconds. She sweated like a polar bear in a tropical zoo underneath the disguise. She hadn't counted on the beard being that hot and itchy, and she definitely hadn't counted on the fact that the overall had a stain-proof oilskin undercoating which meant it wouldn't allow her skin to breathe through the fabric. The can of Slurrpy Cherry Cola Extra Cherry she had brought along had long since parted company with its contents, but she had kept it to roll across her forehead at regular intervals - the droplets of water created by the condensation helped cool down her forehead, but it never lasted long.
She was five seconds from aborting her deep-cover mission when her attention was drawn by a pair of very familiar-looking men who walked out of the Beach Bingo Extravaganza playing area. The taller of the two pulled down in his white-and-red t-shirt almost like he had just put it on after doing something where he couldn't afford to be recognized as an employee of the Fun With Bingo Group.
"Now isn't that interesting," Stella mumbled, reaching into her pocket to find Regina's smartphone to keep it close by if she had to call for help in a hurry. She had a niggling worry that she might not be able to comprehend the highly advanced piece of electronic hardware if she was forced into the proverbial corner by the brutes, but she preferred not to think of that.
The two men were still walking away from her which gave her an opportunity to get closer to the marquee tent. On her way there, going no faster than at a leisurely stroll so she wouldn't attract too much attention to herself, she eyed a second table filled with various prizes similar to those she had seen on the Family Bingo Group website even before she and Regina had driven to the beach. The goons were still far enough away not to pose a threat, so she shuffled off to gawk at the prizes like any other interested spectator would.
---
The prizes came in different price ranges as expected; most of them were of a solid quality save for one or two that were mere trinkets. She flipped a few of the more expensive items over to check for the hidden sticker with the Family Bingo Group company logo but had no success in her endeavor - at least not until she took the top plate of a set of seven commemorative porcelain plaquettes celebrating Prince Charles' marriage to Lady Diana Spencer in 1981.
It was so random that even she, the perpetually random-minded Stella Starr, furrowed her brow and did a double-take at the motif that had been painted onto the plaquette in garish colors.
The motif mattered less in the face of the little, white sticker on the rear that said the item was the property of the Family Bingo Group, however, and it made her break out in a cheeky grin underneath the itchy beard. Putting down the plaquette, she shuffled off to the side and dug into her pocket to get Regina's telephone.
A second later, she bumped into something short and soft. When she realized it was the shorter, rounder of the two goons who had returned by himself, she nearly panicked underneath the bushy eyebrows, the lens-less spectacles, the bulbous nose and the rest of the fake beard. She managed to keep herself in check for long enough to let out a deep, manly grunt that was responded to with a "Sorry, buddy," before the goon walked into the playing area itself.
Her heart beat double-time from the unpleasant surprise, and it caused her fingers to have trouble hitting the right apps on the smartphone's smooth display. After loading the wrong one three times in rapid succession, she growled long and hard at it which seemed to work. Entering the telephone's registry, she rolled down until 'Finkelstein, Aaron' came into view. The number was soon selected.
'It's Regina. Did you find anything?' Regina's familiar dulcet tones said at the other end.
"Uh-huh. Positive ID. Found at least one sticker. The goons are here too," Stella said, whispering into the telephone while she shielded her mouth with her hand. She continued to glance around to have a chance to make a run for it in case the taller, less pleasant of the two goons would show up.
'We're on our way. Don't do anything rash, Stell!'
"Well, of course not. When have I ever done that?"
'No comment,' Regina said, closing the connection so fast that Stella could only stare at the smartphone's info screen that told her the conversation had ended after a mere seventeen seconds.
"She's lucky that I love her… that was just uncalled for! Haven't I always been the very definition of level-headedness and calculated decisions?" she mumbled, putting the expensive electronic gizmo into the overall's front pocket. She kept vigilant just in case the goons would gang up on her, but the section of the beach near the Fun With Bingo Group's playing area seemed safe enough - at least for the time being.
*
*
CHAPTER 5
It only took a few minutes for Regina and Aaron Finkelstein to arrive at the marquee tent belonging to the Fun With Bingo Group. Where the organizer of the Beach Bingo Bonanza was so eager to get the mess sorted out that he hurried along the soft sand with frantic steps like he was trying to catch a subway train that had already left the station, Regina strode across the open landscape like a true queen of the desert.
Her six-foot-one frame, her elegant, bright-white Giacomo Laurentii pantsuit, her cool Panama hat and her dark locks that moved in graceful waves behind her as she walked made her stand out among the mere mortals that surrounded her. Striding along, she garnered so much attention from the far more casually-dressed people at the beach that she couldn't help but slip into her old, glorious routine: her patented model-walk that saw her hips slamming left and right as she moved.
Though she drew applause - and several cat-calls - from the spectators who stared wide-eyed at the impromptu fashion display, she resisted the urge of stopping at the end of the make-believe runway, turning around a couple of times to show off what she had to those who hadn't yet caught an eyeful of her and then sashaying back to where she had come from.
She knew better than most that a little showing off was good for business, so when she got closer to Stella who was already speaking to the frantic Aaron Finkelstein, she stopped and flicked her hair over her shoulder - it obviously landed down her back in a perfect cascade; then she lowered the expensive sunglasses and shot a few smoldering gazes at some of the gap-mouthed spectators.
As wild applause broke out all around her, a wide, satisfied grin spread over her features. "I. Still. Got. It," she whispered to herself while she waved at some of the people gawking at her.
Once the fashion show was over, she resumed walking toward Stella in a more restrained gait. "You called, dahling?" she said, still wearing the satisfied grin. When she was unable to get any sort of response from Stella whatsoever, she waved a hand in front of the senior investigator's face. "Stella? Are you in there?"
"I'm here…" Stella croaked. "I think I blew a fuse. And my contacts misted over."
"Ouch. That's gotta be painful…"
"Eh… it's not so bad. I got an image of you etched onto my eyeballs… and that's kinda soothing."
The smug grin on Regina's face only grew wider upon hearing that, and she couldn't resist flicking her hair over her shoulder all over again. "Ohhh. I'm so sorry."
"No, you're not. Here's your phone."
"Thanks," Regina said as she chased Stella's wandering hand for a moment or two. Once she had the telephone, she slipped it into her purse.
"Where's Mr. Finkelstein?" Stella continued, trying to relocate the man she had just spoken to. The hazy mist coating the insides of her contact lenses allowed so little sunlight to filter through to her eyes that the mid-day environment around them might as well have been midnight.
"Over by a table… he's looking at some prizes or something," Regina said and put her hands on Stella's pale-blue overall. "Here, let me guide you along. It's not far."
"Thanks, Reggie… you're my friend," Stella croaked, lifting the fake beard to get some fresh, though warm, air to her steaming hot, ruddy skin.
Working as a team, Regina and Stella soon reached the table with the prizes where Aaron Finkelstein was busy checking for the security sticker that carried his company's name. With Stella out of action for the time being, Regina assumed control of the scene: "Mr. Finkelstein, have you had time to inspect the prizes?"
"Yes…"
"Are some of yours among them?"
"I'm afraid so, Miss Harrison," Aaron said, holding up a couple of the lesser-valuable items so Regina could see the sticker. "Oh, this is heartbreaking. My brother and I have… well, we've never seen eye to eye. Ever. But it's a big, big step from simply disagreeing on how to run the business to actually stealing from me. I can't believe that it's true, but the proof is right here. Oh, this is terrible."
When Regina noticed that Stella was about to bump into the table with the prizes, she grabbed hold of the pale-blue overall to keep her from getting into even more trouble while they waited for the contact lenses to de-mist. "I understand, Mr. Finkelstein. How do you wish to proceed?"
"I… I honestly don't know, Miss Harrison," Aaron Finkelstein said and ran a hand across his flushed brow. "Theft is a crime so I… so the police really should be notified, but… oh, I don't know."
The already serious situation at the prize table was given another turn of the tension-screw a moment later when a balding, round-faced man in his mid-fifties came out of the white-and-red marquee tent speaking into a telephone.
Dressed in a pair of starkly-creased white slacks, a white shirt where the top button was undone, and finally a white-and-red sports blazer that carried the Fun With Bingo Group company logo on the left side of the chest, the man stopped dead in his tracks when he clapped eyes on his twin brother. After finishing the call, the man put the telephone into his blazer pocket and stomped over to the people by the prize table. "Aaron… what the hell are you doing over here?" Benjamin Finkelstein said, narrowing his eyes at the peculiar sight of a short, bearded man with bushy eyebrows standing next to a tall, graceful woman.
"Benjamin," Aaron replied as he closed the distance between himself and his twin, "we have to talk. Right now. We have to talk about something very, very serious."
"Whoa! This is freaky," Stella said, looking the wrong way altogether, "not only am I seeing triple… now I'm hearing double too!"
"No, Stell," Regina said out of the corner of her mouth. "Mr. Finkelstein's twin brother just showed up. Now the sparks are really gonna fly."
"Holy flip-floppa-rooney! And I can't see worth a hoot… oh, you had to pull that durn model-walk, Reggie. Now look what you've done!"
"I beg your pard-"
"We've got no time for that now, Reggie. Okay, I don't need the disguise anymore. I can't see the blip-bloppin' zipper-thingy… unzip me before I melt into a puddle in here," Stella said as she turned her back toward her business associate.
Though Regina was very fond of Stella Starr even on a bad day, she could not stop a deep, long, slow sigh from escaping her lips at the mop-topped investigator's zig-zagging mood swings and unpredictable nature. "The zipper's on the front, Stell," she said in a monotone.
"No it's not… it is?"
"Yes," Regina said, turning Stella around by the shoulders. When she found the little zipper, she moved it all the way down to the lower stop. The pale-blue overalls took care of themselves by falling off Stella's slender shoulders and pooling at her feet in a hurry - but they left a teeny-tiny problem in their wake that neither Regina nor Stella had seen coming: "Oh hello, you two…" Regina said, squinting at Stella's chest where the soaked, and now sheer, Road Runner t-shirt did a really bad job of concealing her curves.
"Whut?" Stella said, trying to conquer the misty haze so she could look down her front. Patting her chest, she grimaced hard when the problem - or problems - became apparent. "Uh-huh. Right. Okay. Of course. On the first day in ten years where I'm not wearing a… naw, this ain't gonna happen. Reggie, help me get the dang-blasted overalls back up… pleeeeeease."
"That's probably the best solution… we don't want to give anyone a heart attack," Regina said, pulling the pale-blue fabric back up before guiding Stella's hand to the little zipper so she could close it herself.
Sighing, Stella closed the hot overall once more. "Like anyone would look at me when you're around…" she mumbled, zipping it all the way up. A second later, she was already sweating like a pig.
"You look beautiful, Stell. Just beautiful." When Stella didn't seem convinced by the praise, Regina leaned down and placed a nice, little kiss on the flushed forehead underneath the shapeless Happy Camper bucket hat.
While all that was going on, Benjamin and Aaron Finkelstein continued to speak with each other in hushed tones. Unfortunately, the hushed tones grew louder and louder as the conversation went along and became an argument; then it grew into a heated confrontation. Matters weren't helped when the two men who had been accused of stealing the prizes showed up to see if their employer needed assistance.
"Ohhhh boy, we've got trouble brewing," Regina said, eyeing the scene. "The two goons just showed up. I think it's a good time to call Inspector Moynes."
Though Stella couldn't lose the hot overalls, she could at least get rid of the itchy, fake beard that was on the brink of driving her crazy. No sooner was it off her beetroot-red face before she scratched, rubbed and massaged every square inch like a ferocious feline with a skin problem. "Not yet, Reggie… not yet. My eyesight is returning… let's go over there and mix it up a little."
"I'm not sure I like that approach, Stell," Regina said as they moved closer to the potential hot spot. "You… of all people… should know how things can go real bad real fast."
"Now what's that supposed to mean?"
"It's experience talking, and it means that I'm dragging you outta there at the first sign of trouble!"
Chuckling, Stella took a step to the side so she could bump hips with the taller woman. "Works for me. Hey, I can see now… awesome! Reggie… please don't do any model-stuff before we're done, okay?"
"Sure, sure…"
The heated confrontation between the Finkelsteins was still going on when Regina and Stella arrived at the table with the prizes. The two goons were still lined up on either side of Benjamin appearing to be ready for anything. Now that Stella had removed the fake beard, the shorter and fatter of the fellows recognized her at once and rammed an elbow into his taller colleague's side to get his attention. The taller one - that Bonnie Hastings had correctly referred to as ugly - bared his teeth in a sneer that didn't make him more handsome.
To add more fuel to the already simmering tension, Benjamin poked an angry index finger into his twin's red-and-white sports blazer. "Look, brother dearest, I am telling you for the last Goddamned time… I don't know what the hell you are talking about. I haven't stolen a damn thing from you, and I'll bet my ass you even know that. And who the hell are these women? Did they spoonfeed you this bullshit?"
"Always with the dirty mouth, Benjamin! Why can't you speak like an adult and not some juvenile delinquent?" Aaron said, slapping off his brother's index finger. "I have the proof of your theft right here. The security stickers… you forgot to remove my security stickers before you put the stolen property on display!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Benjamin Finkelstein said and grabbed a random item off the table that held the prizes. It was an aluminum egg slicer that didn't carry any sticker. "More bullshit!" he said after turning it over several times.
Deciding to cut a long story short, Stella went over to the table and picked up the top item from the stack of commemorative porcelain plaquettes celebrating the British royal wedding. "Try this one, pal," she said, thrusting it into Benjamin's hands.
When the owner of the Fun With Bingo Group turned it over, he stared wide-eyed at the security sticker that carried the Family Bingo Group name and logo in black-on-white. "What the hell is this?" he said, needing to do a double-take to make sure it wasn't a fake. Furrowing his brow, he turned to the two goons and held up the plaquette. "Either of you have an explanation for this?"
The taller of the two goons took a step forward - it made Aaron Finkelstein take a similar one in the opposite direction. "I'll betcha fifty bucks that little midget there planted it to make ya look bad, Mr. F.," he said, never taking his eyes off Stella.
Stella's left eye twitched; a split second later, her mouth curled into the grimace it usually got when a detonation was imminent - or if she had to hurl. Since no hurling was expected, it could only mean she was but one wrong word away from letting it all hang out in one of her infamous five-star, ocean-going, fur-lined, gold-plated '…ucker'-rages.
"Oh-boy," Regina mumbled, no stranger to reading the signs.
"Whassamatter, munchkin?" the taller goon continued - he had clearly not read the memo that warned against provoking a certain Stella Starr, senior investigator with the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency. "You're all silent now. I guess I called it right. Or did I hurt your girly-girl feelings?"
"Ohhhhh-boy," Regina mumbled. She decided that enough was enough and stepped between the steaming Stella and the foolish goon before it was too late. "Mr. Finkelstein, I can assure you that my business associate wouldn't do that. We have solid proof that your men here stole those items from your brother less than half an hour ago. Not only are at least some of the stolen property right here on this table, Mrs. Hastings can identify them both. They assaulted her."
"What? You numbskulls hurt Bonnie Hastings?!" Benjamin Finkelstein cried, turning to his two helpers.
It was clear by the worried look on the face of the shorter and fatter of the two men that he was about to spill the beans about the whole thing, but the taller, and far less intelligent, of the two didn't know when to quit: "Ah, that wrinkled, old broad probably enjoyed it! You told us to get one up on your brother, so we did."
"But not like this, you Goddamned morons!" Benjamin cried, throwing his arms in the air. "I expected you to loosen a guy-rope at one their tent poles, or hide their cordless microphone, or… or something. Not go off and play some kind of Goddamned gangster-wannabes!"
Aaron stared at his twin brother before turning to the two goons. "So it's true?"
The eyes belonging to the fatter of the two goons darted back and forth between the people there before he broke down and let out a strong sigh. "Yeah… we stole the prizes. We shoved that old lady around," he mumbled, pulling out in the upper hem of his shirt that was already too tight for his rotund frame to begin with.
"And that's all I needed to hear," Regina said, reaching for her telephone. "I think it's time to call the police-"
She had only just retrieved her expensive smartphone from her purse when it was knocked from her hand by the tall, stupid goon. The world around them seemed to fall silent as the white telephone landed face-down in the sand with a phlum . The soft sand cushioned the blow so it didn't appear to be damaged or even scratched, but the tension ballooned to hitherto unseen levels.
"Yeah? You girls think you can handle me while we wait for the cops to show up? I don't think so," the stupid goon said in a low, threatening voice while a wicked smile played on his lips.
Benjamin Finkelstein tried to put a hand on the goon's arm, but it was brushed off at once. "Don't make this any worse, you brainless idiot! You've got a hundred people watching you!" he croaked, pointing his thumb at the crowd that had built up around the arguing people.
Then the stupid goon did make it worse. Instead of backing down or making a run for it, he decided to go for the inexcusable and grabbed the lapel of Regina's bright-white pantsuit.
Regina cried out as the hairy hand crumpled the pristine fabric. A split second later, a mop-topped Tasmanian Devil uncorked a whole magnum bottle of premium blend Stellanean Whoop-ass on the goon and showered him in so many home-made kicks, punches and shoves that he couldn't stay on his feet. Even when he landed butt-first onto the soft sand and tried to cover his face with his hands, the whirling wolverine wouldn't stop her ferocious attack - it wasn't until Regina put a calming hand on Stella's shoulder that things settled down.
Panting hard, Stella stepped back from her defeated opponent. She slammed her hands onto her hips and shot the goon such a fiery glare that he whimpered and covered his face all over again. "I'm Stella Starr… that's S-T-E-L-L-Anytime ya up for more Kick-Yo-Hiney, you just let me know, pal! And that ain't no BS!"
The other goon decided not to tempt fate; he threw his arms in the air like he had just been cornered by an entire detachment of G-men. When Stella turned toward him with a look of steely determination upon her face, he hurriedly sat down on the sand while still keeping his arms well-aloft.
Next to him, Aaron and Benjamin Finkelstein continued to glare at each other though the tension eventually eased. Several seconds passed before Aaron spoke up: "We need to have a long talk to clear the air between us, Benjamin. This can't go on. Look what almost happened here!"
"Yeah, I agree," Benjamin said, nodding glumly. He glanced at the defeated goon and his chubby colleague. "Serves me right for wanting to save a buck or two. I don't know what the hell I was thinking hiring such a couple of beach bozos as helpers. Fat-assed, lazy bums… hell, they couldn't even get the Goddamned marquee tent in place!"
Though Aaron grimaced at his twin brother's foul language, he put an arm around Benjamin's shoulder and offered him a little squeeze to show that the dramatic event could in fact provide a fresh start for them.
Regina didn't have time for any of that. Letting out a long sequence of erratic, nervous chuckles, she tried to straighten out her lapel; realizing it was probably none the worse for wear, she instantly reached for her comb to smoothen down her hair that had been upset in the fracas. Once her personal appearance was in place, she grabbed hold of Stella and pulled her into a crushing hug. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that bad, bad, hairy man ruffled my pantsuit!"
"There, there, pookie…" Stella tried, but she was squashed so hard up against Regina's firm body it was hard for her to move her jaw enough to form a coherent sentence.
"My hero! You saved me, Stell! Thank you!" Regina howled, adding several kisses for each part of the sentence.
"Oh, you're very welcome, Reggie. You know… it's all in a day's work for us private eyes," Stella said with a grin around the sweet onslaught of Regina's soft lips caressing her flushed skin. "And now we can call Inspector Moynes. I'm sure she'll be happy to see us."
"It can-" - kiss, smooch - "wait… I need-" - kiss, KISS, smooch - "to kiss you a little-" - KISS, KISS, tongue! "-more first!"
"Oooooooh! Now that definitely works for me, Reggie! I think you missed a spot…" - SMACKYKISS! - "Yep, that's the one I was talking about!"
-*-*-*-
All the drama and excitement that had taken place near the white-and-red marquee tent had drawn a considerable crowd down on the beach and even up on the promenade. As always, the crafty independent vendors who literally spent the entire day riding their bicycles or tricycles up and down the beach selling cool drinks, popcorn, various types of ice cream and even hot dogs had sensed a good chance of making some money, and had turned up in droves to hawk their goods.
Stella had resisted most of the snack food, but the vendor selling gallon-sized buckets of hot popcorn had been too great a temptation for her - thus, she munched noisily on the white, crunchy snacks while she and Regina waited for Inspector Moynes to show up.
While Stella munched, Regina cast a concerned glance down into the bucket of popcorn that had already been depleted by a great deal. "I don't understand how you can eat hot popcorn in this heat, Stell."
"It's the salt. Love the salt."
"I don't understand how you can eat salty popcorn in this heat, Stell."
Stella paused munching for long enough to break out in a snicker. "Watch me," she said and scooped up a huge handful of the white snacks. Just as she had stuffed it all into her mouth, a disharmonic symphony of sirens rolled over them from up on the crowded parking lot. Sliding doors were flung open; then many boots hit the ground. After a multitude of orders had been barked and acknowledged, the wooden staircase leading to the beach turned black as a host of police officers ran down it. A fully armed SWAT-team in black riot gear had taken the point, but the plain clothes officers - who all wore Kevlar vests and tense expressions - were right behind the men and women wielding the heavy weapons.
"Ohhhhhhh-" - munch, MUNCH, crunch - "for cryin'-" - CRUNCH, munch, munch - "out loud!" - MUNCH, munch, munch, crunch - "Always-" - CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH - "when I'm eating!" - munch, munch, munchmunch-crunchcrunch. "Always!" - munchmunchmunch-CRUNCH-Gulp!
Regina drew a breath to make a comment, but Stella beat her to it: "Yeah, yeah! I know exactly what you're gonna say… 'Why don't you just eat less, Stell,' or 'You really ought to cut down on the white sugar, Stell,' or 'You really ought to cut down on the salt, Stell,' or 'You really ought to cut down on the Slurrpies, Stell,' or 'You really ought to cut down on the Meaty Mamas, Stell,' or 'You really ought to cut down on the French fries, Stell,' or 'You should consider eating some green stuff now and then, Stell.' Am I right?"
"Weeeellll… no. None of the above. I was about to say, oh look, there's Inspector Moynes. But now that you've mentioned all those sensible things, then yes, I do think you should-"
"Oh look, there's Mary-Jane!" Stella said, stomping away from Regina to cut her off before she could get going.
Chuckling, Regina followed the fiery investigator at three paces' distance.
---
The hastily assembled army of police officers soon arrested the two goons for theft, disturbing the peace in a public area, and assault and battery against Bonnie Hastings and Regina. Though the taller, more stupid of the two complained about being assaulted himself by the mop-topped wildcat in the pale-blue overall, no one took him seriously.
While Inspector Mary-Jane Moynes walked over to the twin brothers to give Benjamin Finkelstein a stern talking-to, the ugly goon and his chubbier associate were handcuffed and dragged back up the wooden staircase to be processed at the precinct house.
As always, Stella couldn't stop admiring the rock-solid professionalism of the vastly experienced police inspector. She wished she had her notepad and her pencil with her so she could take notes of the general approach and the body language displayed by the bone-tough, quick-witted, but surprisingly friendly Mary-Jane.
Regina was far too busy being admired to have time to admire anyone else. The scantily-clad beach bunnies who had arrived in the Jeep Grand Cherokee had recognized her from the covers of countless old and new fashion magazines - she had just done a combined photo shoot for the TeenSpirit , Live4Fashion and Style Express magazines that were all part of the same publishing group - and they were lined up two-deep to have selfies taken with the woman who may have been old enough to be their mother but who was still fascinating to them.
The slick-haired, well-muscled, twenty-something hunks who had brought the bunnies to the beach spent their time huddled in a circle, kicking their heels and grumbling at the sudden lack of attention.
When Mary-Jane Moynes was done laying down the law with the twin brothers, she walked over to Stella and put out her hand. As always, the strawberry-blond Inspector was smartly dressed in a tangerine, square-shouldered pantsuit over a mother-of-pearl blouse - the charcoal-gray Kevlar vest she wore on top of her regular clothes was ungainly, but necessary. Her shiny, golden badge was prominently displayed hanging on a metal chain around her neck, and she had a squawking walkie-talkie stuck down the right-hand side pocket of her jacket. "Hello, Miss Starr. Huh… nice outfit. I would have thought wearing an overall would be scorching hot today, but…"
"Hiya, Mary-Jane! Oh, it's hot all right… and then some! But we'd have an indecent exposure-thing going on if I took it off, so…" Stella said with a sweaty grin while she shook the hand offered to her.
"Oh. I see. There's always something weird going on with you two…" Mary-Jane said, squinting at the flushed Stella and the beaming Regina who was still busy being in her second-favorite spot: in front of the camera as the striking object of attention for countless selfies - her number one favorite spot was of course snuggled up in the arms of her sweetheart.
Stella grinned as she took in the sight of the squealing, wiggling, scantily-clad bunnies. "I guess. ANYway… the two crooks you busted fessed up to stealing prizes from Aaron Finkelstein's table to put on his brother's. And the tall one, the dumbest of those two mookies, got a thing for pushing women around, too."
"So I heard. We'll deal with them from here on."
"Excellen-ty!"
Regina finally excused herself from the throng of people that had gathered around her to rejoin Stella and Mary-Jane. She couldn't resist walking away in her patented model-walk, but only for a short while so she wouldn't cause too much stress on Stella's contact lenses that had only just recovered from their last ordeal - even so, the slamming hips drew a certain amount of attention. "Hi, Inspector Moynes!" she said as she put out her hand.
"Hello, Miss Harrison. We've got to stop meeting like this," Mary-Jane said with a grin. "At least Miss Starr here wasn't arrested this time… like at the flea market back in April. Remember?"
"Oh, I remember. Vividly," Stella mumbled. "I still have bad dreams about it sometimes…" She had to shiver despite the heat when she thought back to the hefty security guard Felicia Cockburn and the deep resentment she had seemed to harbor against Stella for no good reason whatsoever.
When Mary-Jane's walkie-talkie squawked down in her pocket, she pulled it up and responded to the call using a sequence of police codes, abbreviations and various command language that made all the gloomy thoughts blow right out of Stella's mind. Grinning from ear to ear, she observed the Inspector as she received an update from the detectives and the uniformed officers up at the paddy wagon.
"Huh," Mary-Jane said as she slipped the walkie-talkie back into her pocket. "Seems the taller of the two men we arrested really is as dumb as you said, Miss Starr. He just tried to make a run for it, but he was tackled and shackled."
Stella shook her head at the goon's stupidity. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer fella!"
"I guess that wraps up this assignment. I better get back to the paperwork," Mary-Jane said and once more shook hands with Stella and Regina. Smiles were exchanged all around before the Inspector pulled out a couple of flyers that she kept in her left-hand pocket. "Oh, by the way… I'd like to invite you to the annual Meet The Police-day in August. I'll be the hostess of a couple of guided tours of the old precinct house downtown, and there's going to be a display of old and new police cruisers and other vehicles on the square in front of City Hall."
"Ooooooooooooh!" Stella said, sticking her nose into the flyer to get the full picture of the exciting event. "Thanks a whole bunch, Mary-Jane! We'll be there… you can count on it! Aw, flippety-flip-flop, that's gonna be really fun and exciting! Reggie, look at this!"
"I know. I got one just like it," Regina said, pulling Stella in for a sideways hug.
A look that spelled out 'experiencing severe second thoughts' flashed across Mary-Jane Moynes' face as she appeared to consider that it perhaps hadn't been the world's best idea to invite the two investigators after all - trouble had a tendency to follow wherever they went, even inside a police station. It was too late to take back the offer, so she could only grin and let out a nervous chuckle. "See you then, Miss Starr. Miss Harrison," she said and offered the two women a wave before she walked back to the wooden staircase.
Stella had her nose buried so deeply in the four-wing flyer to take in all the colorful pictures and exciting information that she didn't even notice Aaron Finkelstein moving up next to her. She noticed even less that he cleared his throat a couple of times like he wanted to have a word. It took a little nudge by Regina before she realized that something was up. "Uh… Mr. Finkelstein?"
"Miss Starr," the owner of the Family Bingo Group said; he seemed to have aged a decade as a result of the confrontation with his twin brother, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate the sterling work put in by yourself and Miss Harrison. If we hadn't been able to recover our prizes, we would have been forced to close down for the rest of the week or perhaps even for good if the public opinion had turned against us. I'm… I'm afraid I can't offer you much in the way of financial-"
"Hold it right there, Mr. Finkelstein," Stella said and put her hands in the air. "We helped you because it was the right thing to do. Not because we're money hounds. We don't want anything."
"Oh, but that wouldn't be proper, Miss Starr!" Aaron Finkelstein said strongly. "No, I insist. I would feel like I took advantage of you if you're not given some kind of compensation for your hard work."
Grunting after having had the best idea for a long time, Regina leaned down to whisper a few words in Stella's ear.
Stella soon nodded and broke out in a wide grin. "Well, in that case… Mr. Finkelstein, how about if you gave Reggie and me another couple of complimentary tickets? That way, we could both enjoy ourselves doing the bingo-bonanza-boogie all afternoon. Who knows, we might even end up winning a prize!"
Aaron Finkelstein stared at the two women for a few seconds like he couldn't fathom how a pair of complimentary tickets would ever be able to reward the effort put in by the investigators; since it seemed a genuine request, he stuck out his hand at once and gave the women a couple of strong shakes. "You'll be my guests of honor! You can stay for as long as you wish!"
"Oooooo-yeah! Awesomesauce!" Stella cried, spinning around to slap Regina a couple of resounding high-fives. "And now! Now we're gonna bingo 'till the cows come hoooooooooome!"
-*-*-*-
The grand day out at the beach - that had turned so eventful that even Stella had had all the action and excitement she could handle - had finally come to a close. A magnificent deep-blue color had spread across the cloudless sky as the sun was on the last part of its journey toward the horizon, and the rich hue had so far been able to defeat the perpetual light pollution that rose from the vast Bay City. The temperature had dropped a few degrees which had made it just that little bit easier to breathe without having one's lungs burned to a crisp.
It was too late in the day for it to be called early evening, and too early to be called late evening - thus, it was just plain, old evening. Regardless of the preferred moniker, Regina and Stella didn't really give a fluttering figleaf what it was called as they drove into the parking lot at Rockin' Ruby's, the favorite watering hole of the intrepid investigators of the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency.
Most of the regulars were still at work or eating dinner somewhere, so the parking lot was far less busy than usual. Regina had no problem finding a spot for the low-slung sports car - she even avoided parking next to the dreaded curb stones that always saw Stella bounce back down into the bucket seat at least once after failing to defeat gravity.
After they had ended up spending most of the afternoon at the scorching hot beach, they had made a beeline for home where they had showered and changed clothes. Although Stella had failed to win a single prize at the Beach Bingo Bonanza, she ended up scoring big when Regina had joined her in the shower to show how much she appreciated the ferocious defense against the goon.
Thus, Stella's face was draped in a goofy, flaked-out grin that went well with her old-fashioned spectacles, her cut-off denim shorts, her rainbow-colored belt, her Ain't I Perdy? muscleshirt and her shaggy, dirty-blond haystack. She'd had her hand on Regina's thigh all the way over to Rockin' Ruby's, and it appeared she was reluctant to let go since she kept it there even after they had come to a halt.
Regina chuckled as she reached down to tickle the back of Stella's hand. When it prompted a lazy snicker but no further action, she entwined their fingers and moved the hand over to Stella's own lap. Now that she was already halfway there, she leaned in and placed a long, warm kiss on her partner's soft lips. "Hey you," she whispered.
"Hey you, too," Stella replied in a matching whisper before she broke out in another lazy snicker.
"You need a hand getting out?"
Stella glanced at the little lever that would open the door. The innocuous-looking item had caused her so many problems during the years they had leased the Mercedes SLK that she might as well pre-empt further embarrassing incidents by accepting Regina's offer. "Yeah… I do. Thanks, Reggie-dahling."
"You're welcome, Stella-dahling," Regina said and climbed out of the low-slung sports car. She came around to the passenger side, opened the door and took Stella by the hand - the mop-topped investigator was out of the car and on her feet in very little time and even less drama.
Regina had changed into a casual outfit consisting of designer blue-jeans and a pale-blue pilot shirt now that she was going to spend the rest of the evening among people who looked at the person rather than at the clothes they wore; she had considered wearing a blue windbreaker as well, but it was a warm evening so the additional garment hadn't been necessary.
Walking arm in arm across the parking lot, they were honked at by a yellow taxi cab from the Taurus Cab Company. Turning around, they offered the driver - who turned out to be Lucinda Huerta whom they had helped after she had been scammed by a sneaky gang of counterfeiters - a quick wave before the yellow Ford Crown Victoria cab drove past them to drop off a pair of customers at the bar's main entrance.
---
Opening the front door to Rockin' Ruby's, Regina made way for Stella as they walked over the threshold and into the best girls-only bar in the entire Bay City area. The owner of the establishment, the fifty-something, retired pro-softball player 'Rocking' Ruby Albrecht, didn't sit at her usual place at the end of the long, polished counter, but her voice could be heard from the connected room housing the dance floor further into the bar.
In addition to the counter and the ten bar stools that lined it, the narrow main bar room was equipped with eight cozy booths lining the outer wall. The rear section of the bar, beyond the access to the dance floor, was wider and saw an additional fifteen regular tables. The upgrades that had been installed earlier in the year - like the bronze highlights inside the booths, and the crimson carpet that covered the floors at the seating areas - looked great and inviting under the warm, cozy lights that shone from the many lamps hanging from the ceiling.
Regina and Stella strolled past the hallstand and up to the counter. While they waited for Ruby to show up so they could place their orders, Stella cast a brief glance at the bulletin board that was used to display various community news and updates. When nothing caught her eye, she turned to the bowl of pretzels that always stood on the counter. She had just scooped up a handful when Ruby Albrecht came out from the dance floor - for a change, she hadn't had time to stuff them into her face yet, but it had been a matter of seconds.
"Oh… hi, guys. You're here early," Ruby said, moving behind the counter so she could serve her long-time customers. She was a square-built woman in her mid-fifties who had kept fit and in ship-shape despite the fact that she hadn't been a professional softball player for over fifteen years. Her hair was more gray than blond now, but her eyes were as sharp and intelligent as ever.
"You can't keep us away," Stella said with a grin. "Problems on the dance floor?"
Ruby shrugged and picked up two tumblers and a stack of napkins so she had a few things in place for later. "One of the speakers has a bad connection. The volume fluctuates and it's annoying as hell to listen to. There's a sound guy in there right now trying to find the faulty wire or connection… or whatever. Anyway, what can I get ya gals?"
"I'll have a driver's Cosmo, Ruby," Regina said and dug into her pocket to find her plastic.
"And I'll have one of those Brazilian tropical drinks-things," Stella said, adjusting her glasses. "Capu- no. Capo- no… buh… capa- oh-what-the-flip-is-it-called?"
"Caipirinha, perhaps?" Ruby said with a grin.
"Bingo! Wa-hey! Finally!" - Snicker, SNICKER, snicker! - "Oh, and vodka." - Snicker, snicker!
"Then it's not a caipirinha… that's called a caipiroska."
Snicker, snicker! - "Durn…" - Snicker! - "Gimme the 'roska, then." - Snicker, snicker.
"Why is that so funny?" Ruby continued as she reached for a bottle of triple-distilled, premium grade vodka.
Stella snickered too hard to talk, so Regina needed to take over: "We've been down at the beach playing bingo the whole day."
"Huh, I never heard that one before. Is that newspeak for playing nookie?"
Now Stella really went to town with her snickering, and she needed to lift her glasses and pinch the bridge of her nose to at least attempt to stop her giggle-fit.
"No. We really did play bingo," Regina continued. "Isn't that right, Stell?"
"Uh-huh!" Stella managed to say between snickers.
"Right. You and bingo, Reggie?"
"Yeah, well… you know," Regina said and broke out in a half-shrug before she pulled Stella in for a sideways squeeze.
Ruby could only nod at the eternal truth of that statement. "Don't I ever. I'll be right over with your drinks, gals."
"Thanks, Ruby," Regina said, guiding the still-snickering Stella over to the booth permanently reserved for the Harrison-Starr Detective Agency - it even said so on a rectangular piece of cardboard that had been placed in the center of the round table.
---
Stella's giggle-fit eventually died down which was just as well since she drew a certain amount of attention from the other patrons who had begun to show up at Rockin' Ruby's after work - not that drawing attention was particularly new to her, of course.
"You know, Reggie," she said after she had taken a sip of her Brazilian-Russian special. Putting down the tall glass that had been frosted and decorated with a rim of sugar, she reached into her pants pocket to find her smartphone instead. It wasn't as advanced or as flashy as the one Regina owned but it still had a myriad of different apps, settings and various other thingamabobs that had all been made with the simple intent to confuse her. "It's really too bad that we're forced to schlep these damn phones around everywhere we go now. I mean, okay, I understand the concept of mobile phones, but… where did our privacy go? Huh? People answer their phones when they're on the can fer Chrissakes! Or talk loudly about their mating habits when little kids are within earshot. I mean… is that really progress?"
Regina shrugged. "I don't know. I just use 'em," she said and sipped her easy Cosmopolitan.
"Yeah. I guess," Stella said, putting the telephone on the round table.
More regulars arrived in the shape of Debbie Schwartz and Samantha Welles; a steady couple who had met at Rockin' Ruby's for the big Valentine's Day event a few years earlier. The young women waved at the local legends Stella and Regina before they sat down on the tall bar stools at the counter to place their orders.
"Awwww… puppy love. Look at them. Ain't they cute?" Stella said as she sipped her drink that offered her a richly-flavored glimpse of a tropical paradise.
"Yep! And so are you," Regina said, taking full advantage of the situation by leaning in and placing a long line of kisses on Stella's cheek, chin, nose and ultimately her lips.
The kissing-session only came to an end when Stella's telephone rang. Annoyed with the interruption, Stella was about to reject the call when she noticed through a tiny peephole on the lower-left part of her spectacles - the only spot that hadn't misted over yet - that the caller-ID said it was her old friend Laura 'Law' Cruz.
"Reggie, mmphff, ohhhh-" - Kiss, kiss, kissy - "Mmmm-ahhh, oh! Ohhh-yeah, mmphff-" - Kiss, kissy, kiss - "Reggie…" - Kissy, kiss, tongue! - "Ooooooh! Mmphff… mmmm-ahhh…" - Kiss, kiss, kissy - "Reggie, I need-" - Kiss, kissy, kiss - "Reggie, I really need to take this!" - Kissy, kissy, tongue!
"Oh, all right, then," Regina husked as she pulled back from her kissing mate. When she realized Stella could hardly see where to put her finger, she helped it along to the right spot on the smartphone's display.
"Thanks, Reggie. Uh… hi, Laura! Long time no hear-from-ya," Stella said into the telephone.
'Hi, Stell! Yeah, I know. I've been real busy up here at North Bay U giving lectures and things. Did I catch you at a bad time? You're short of breath.'
"No, no, I… uh… I've been working hard, ha ha." - Stella leered at Regina who promptly stuck out her tongue.
'I believe that! Well… so… I called to hear if you guys would be interested in coming over to my new pad for dinner next Friday at six or so? You got my new address, right?'
"Uh… I think we do, yeah. Sure, we can come over for dinner next Friday," Stella parroted for Regina's benefit - Regina answered by shaking her head hard and mouthing something that Stella couldn't see clearly enough through the misty glasses to decipher. "Uh, hang on, Laura… Reggie's trying to tell me something," she continued, putting her hand over the little slot for the microphone.
'Sure.'
"I'm in Paris next Friday, Stell. With Steve Darrian."
"Awwwwww, rusty bells!" Stella said and smacked herself across her forehead - it made her shaggy mop of hair fly off in all directions. "I forgot all about that blip-bloppin' trip with Mister Big Shot… uh, Laura?"
'I'm still here. No Reggie?'
"Oh… you heard? Yeah… I mean no. Uh… I mean, that's right, Reggie can't make it. But I can, you better believe that. I'll be there with bells on! Do I need to dress up for a special occasion, or will my regular cool and casual duds do?" - Snicker, snicker!
Regina shot Stella a pointed look that spelled out quite clearly that she would have to restrain herself clothing-wise now that she needed to be out in the big, mean world on her own for a change - Stella just waved her off.
'You can wear whatever you feel like, Stell. It's my engagement party. Or what we call an engage-'
"Hoooooooooooooooo-ly shit!" Stella howled, jumping up from the softly cushioned bench at the booth so she had room to wave her free hand in the air without bopping Regina over the nose - or worse, upsetting her hair. "Holy spit and sliced cantaloupes, girl! Wow… congratulations!"
Warm laughter rolled over the airwaves from the other end of the connection at Stella's typically enthusiastic response. 'Thanks a whole bunch, my old friend. Yeah, it was time. The other half of my soul isn't a believer in any religion so we can't get married in a church or anything like that, but we'll definitely have some kind of ceremony. That's for later, though. Next Friday, we'll just share a couple of bottles of wine and some juicy, old stories. Yeah? Oh, and I'll pay your cab fare both ways so you don't have to hold back any. Not that you ever have, ha ha.'
"Ohhhh, ha flippin' ha… you know me too well! This just keeps gettin' better and better. I can't wait to see you… Friday can't come soon enough!"
'Super! Well, that's all for me this time. So… see you next Friday at six or so.'
"See ya then! Stay cool, Law!" Stella said and closed the connection. Grinning like a maniac, she sat down and took a long swig from her tropical drink. "Un-be-frick-frackin'-lievable… Law's gettin' hitched… or whatever they decide on doing," she said around the grin that refused to go away.
"Laura Cruz," Regina said and leaned in toward Stella to give her a little bump with her shoulder. "Whenever you talk about that gorgeous woman, your eyes light up. I feel like I should worry about the competition."
"Don't be silly, Snookums," Stella said as she patted Regina's endless, denim-clad thigh. She fell silent for a few moments as she relived some of the good times she and Laura had shared in school and later on. "Okay, so I had a humongous crush on her when we were younger, but there's never been any romance between us as such. We were childhood friends… then teen friends… and now she and her girlfriend are going to be engaged. That's what the party is for… it's their engagement bash."
"That's nice. I'll drink to that," Regina said and raised her cocktail glass to down the rest of her driver's Cosmopolitan.
Stella cocked her head while she looked at her partner emptying the glass. "Say… that's not a bad idea, Reggie. Oooooh, a fantabulously cool notion just zoomed into my head!" she said, zipping away from the booth to hustle up behind the row of bar stools that still only saw a low number of patrons. "Ruby! My best friend… uh, apart from Reggie, natch… is getting engaged, so drinks for the whole shack-and-caboodle are on me!"
A chorus of various cheers and utterances of "Yay!" "Awesome!" and even "For she's a jolly good dolly!" echoed through Rockin' Ruby's as Stella waltzed back to the booth she shared with Regina.
---
A short fifteen minutes later, Ruby came down to the booth and put the tab on the round table. Stella found her wallet, picked up the tab and promptly spewed out the mouthful of her new drink - a spiced dark rum and cherry cola combo known as the Cherry Blossom - that she had only just taken on board.
As droplets of the mix of golden rum and dark brown, hugely sticky sodapop dripped off her chin, she stared wide-eyed at the tab while croaking: "Four-hundred-and-fifty-nine dollars… four-hundred-and-fif- four-hundred… four-hundred-and-fifty-nine dollars?! What in the flying flippety-flip-flop do you have on the menu that can cost that much when there's only uh… uh… seven… uh… eight… nine… make that ten people here?! Okay, which one of you jokers up there ordered a whole 1978 Don Barrymore?"
"Dom Pérignon, Stell," Regina said out of the corner of her mouth, but she was thoroughly ignored.
"Hold ya horses, Miss Starr," Ruby said, pointing at the back part of the bar where Stella hadn't been down yet since she and Regina had been so busy with each other. "Sure we're only ten up here, but there's another fifteen down the back. It's a birthday party."
"Oh, crud…" Stella croaked, staring at the huge tab. "Well. Okay. If you say B, you need to say Bop-A-Lula as well."
Regina knew that Stella's finances were perpetually tight since she spent all her nickels and dimes on keeping the company and her beloved AMC Pacer running. She also knew the fiery investigator was far too proud to accept a helping hand, but that was something they had to square between themselves at a later date. There was really only one solution to the unexpected problem: reaching into her wallet, she found her titanium-colored credit card - that the ad campaign promised Would Open Doors And Pave The Way For You Around The World - and held it up. "I got this one, Ruby."
While Ruby went back to the cash register to complete the transaction, Stella sniffled a couple of times before she turned toward her partner with the saddest of sad looks plastered all over her expressive face. "Thank you. You're my friend, Reggie. My best friend. My only friend in a world so dark and depressing and cruel and rainy and ugh I can't even begin to fathom it and next week you're going to Paris with Steve and I hate that 'cos that means you're alone with your former lover for a whole week in the city of love and it also means that you can't come to Laura's engagement bash and that would have been great and so much fun, but you know what? I love you, Reggie."
"Forget Steve. Beyond work, he's not a factor in my life any longer. You don't have to worry about him for a second. And I love you too, my little French waffle," Regina said, wrapping her long arms around the shorter woman and pulling her into a warm, comforting hug.
"Awww- uh-buh… wotcha call me?!"
"My little French waffle!" Regina said as she moved back from the tender clinch. "You know… hot, sweet and tasty."
"I never thought of myself quite like that, but okay… huh!" Stella said, grinning as she winked at the taller woman next to her.
Winking back, Regina leaned down to give herself a sample of all three things - apparently, hot, sweet and tasty could be found along the curvature of Stella's neck.
Soon, the husky snickers that emanated from the first booth caused the peanut gallery sitting on the bar stools to hold up their free drinks and chant Stella and Regina's names - the two investigators had no time to make qualified replies.
"Jeez, you guys," Ruby said while she put Regina's credit card down on the round table after completing the payment. "Go rent a motel room or something… you're scaring the kiddies!"
The panting Stella and the beaming Regina soon came up for air. The suggestion was as good as any, so they scooped up their belongings, slid out of the plush booth and sashayed past the assembled barflies - Stella even tried to emulate Regina's patented model-walk though she didn't have the hips for it. "Toodles, dahlings! Don't wait up for us!" she cried as she offered the regular guests of Rockin' Ruby's a dainty wave that was responded to by plenty of hooting and hollering…
*
*
THE END