Good Graces - Lesley Kagen [32]
Mrs. Callahan parks herself in front of the small fan that’s whirring on the Five and Dime’s front counter.
“Where’s your sister?” she asks. She likes Troo better than she likes me. They play rummy for pennies.
“She’s ah—”
“Hi, Aunt Betty,” Troo calls from somewhere in the back of the store, not even trying to be secretive.
“What’s the score, Eleanor?” Aunt Betty shouts back friendly, but to me she says real urgent, “Forget whatever it was the two of you were doin’ next Friday night. Eddie’s gonna take Nell to the drive-in and I told them I would watch the baby, but . . .” She really has to work on improving her aim. Her cherry smile would be nice if she didn’t draw so much outta the lines. “Detective Riordan just asked me out to dinner at Frenchy’s!”
“That’s great!” I say, because Aunt Betty really does need another husband. Her original one got flattened by a cookie press four years ago. I heard her complaining to Mother not long ago, “I despise the smell of those goddamn cookies. It’s bad enough we’ve had to breathe it in since the day we were born . . . I can’t stand it for one more minute, Helen. I gotta get outta there. I need a new man. Pronto.”
I don’t blame her for hating it up at the factory where she has to work in the packaging area to make ends meet. Those cookies don’t make her Feel Good the Way a Cookie Should, the way they’re supposed to. Those cookies killed her husband.
I ask her, “What time do you want us to go over to the apartment on Friday?” I was planning to work on my charitable summer story, but I guess that’s gonna have to wait.
“Seven thirty. Bring your pj’s and your church clothes. By the time the movies are over, it’ll be too late for Eddie to drive you home.”
She means he will be too shnockered to drive us home. Him and Nell like to swig beer at that passion pit.
“Wait . . . maybe you better come a little earlier,” Aunt Betty adds on. “I just remembered they’re not going to the 41 Twin like they usually do. They’re drivin’ out to the one on Bluemound Road to see the Hitchcock movie everybody’s talkin’ about.”
This has gotta be another sign from God! The new zoo is on Bluemound Road. Maybe right next door to the drive-in. If I could talk Nell and Eddie into letting Troo and me come along to the movies with the baby in her basket, I might get a glimpse of Sampson.
Troo calls to me from the back of the store, “Floor it,” which means she’s gotten whatever she came for.
Aunt Betty reminds me, “Tie a string around your finger, Sally. Next Friday. Seven thirty.” Then she says to Mrs. Kenfield, “Did that new Max Factor rouge—?”
“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need some of those wax lips really bad.” I point to the third row in the new and improved candy case. “The red ones.”
Troo musta been watching, waiting for me to distract Mrs. Kenfield because that’s when she makes her getaway. I hear the back door of the dime store that lets out into the alley slam shut. That would be my job normally, to make sure it doesn’t.
Mrs. Kenfield hands me the wax lips with a dirty look on her face. “That’ll be four cents. I’ll add whatever your sister stole and settle up later with Detective Rasmussen.”
“Ya gotta give it to her,” Mrs. Betty Callahan snorts. “The kid’s got moxie.”
Mrs. Kenfield puffs out her cheeks and says, “Honestly, Betty. Don’t encourage them. I plan to speak to Father Mickey about Margaret