Marjorie Thelen - Designer Detective

A plume of gray smoke was still visible above the trees. A smell like burning tires penetrated the cab of the truck. But we couldn’t get close enough to see the Lodge mansion. The street was blocked with rescue vehicles, a TV van, and cars of the curious. No one had offered to drop me at the airport even though I had asked politely several times. Jake said he’d drop me later. He parked the truck half off the road on someone’s manicured lawn.

“You girls stay in the rig. The boys and I will look things over.”

The girls watched the boys maneuver between vehicles until they were out of sight. Never one to follow orders, I climbed out to stretch my legs and get a better view. Opal followed. We craned our necks trying to see. A plan was forming in my head. If I could divert Opal’s attention or find someone she could talk to, I could take the truck and be on my way to the airport. I had no qualms about theft. My morals were beginning to worry me.

“I wonder where Hudson is,” I said to Opal.

“I guess we can’t call him. He never carried a cell phone.”

“Let’s walk a little closer.”

Ever game, Opal followed me through the line of cars.

“Don’t you think you should make contact with the police?” I said.

“I guess I should. Where would they be?”

“Follow me.” Off we went through the cars and groups of gawkers to find the police. A better opportunity presented itself when we caught sight of Hudson.

“Hudson. Hudson.” I waved with hands high over my head, trying to catch his attention. He was talking to a man and woman who looked familiar. Maybe they were family, someone I had seen at the wake. It turned out to be the tall guy with the dumpy but cheerful wife. I wondered if she knew what her husband did in his spare time.

Hudson caught sight of us and came hurrying over. “Miss Opal, Miss Marlowe. I’m so glad to see you. I wanted to come to your assistance, but I had my hands full with the fire. I’m glad to see you are both all right.”

“Good to see you didn’t get caught in the fire. Do they know what started it?” I asked, innocently.

“No, but apparently it started in the upper story on the west wing where Albert’s rooms are. The damage is confined to that wing but there’s also water damage.” He looked in the direction of the house. “It was such a lovely mansion. Hopefully, it can be restored.”

“So the insurance money will go to rebuild?”

“Yes, of course.”

But that meant no insurance money to split among greedy family members. Keen to be on my way and remove myself from harm’s way since I didn’t know where Cody and his friends were, I said to Opal, “I forgot something in the truck. You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before she could say anything, I fled to the truck, hoping I wasn’t running too hard to stir up suspicion. When I looked back, Opal and Hudson were walking toward the house with the niece and nephew. Jake and the boys were nowhere in sight.

I jumped into the cab of the truck, retrieved the keys from the visor where I saw Jake stow them and powered up. I tried to make a U turn in the street but it took several back and forth tries, and I worked up a good sweat in the process. Finally, I was on my way to the Washington Capital Beltway. If they’d try to track me down they’d go to Dulles International. At the Beltway I headed north to Maryland and Baltimore-Washington International Airport. We could all play the same game.

* * * * *

I sat in the VIP lounge at BWI and gave Olympia a call.

“Where are you?” she said.

“At the airport. Where are you?”

“Still packing. I leave tonight. How’d you get away so quick?”

“Long story best told on the beach, watching gentle blue waves roll in, sipping a glass of bubbly.”

“That’s my girl. When does your flight leave?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call you when I have the details.” Superstition dictated that my plans would go awry if I told them to anyone. I kept looking over my shoulder expecting Jake, Cody or Opal to materialize. I heard my name and ducked down in the seat. Surely, it had to be a different Fiona. I sat with hand shading my eyes waiting for the voice to evaporate.

“Fiona, it is you,” said a bright, squeaky clean voice.

I looked up. There stood one of my blaringly gay decorator friends who I ran into in the oddest places, like the VIP lounge at BWI.

“Bobby, how are you? It’s been ages. Where are you headed?”

He batted a hand at me. “I’m on my way to Fiji on a little job and then some R and R. It’s the most divine place. Have you been?” He plopped down on the armchair facing me and chattered away, not pausing for answers.

He stopped after I didn’t say a word. “Are you all right, Fiona? Like I was saying, you must try Fiji.” He paused and frowned. “Fiona, I’m not sure but I heard on the news, you know, the airport TV that the police are looking for a woman named Fiona. I didn’t catch the details. No, it can’t be you.”

My mind snapped to attention at the mention of Fiona and police.

“There’s more than one Fiona in this world,” I said with a laugh I didn’t feel.

He shrugged. “I must be mistaken. But you might want to check it out. Anyway, I just got back from Minneapolis and do you believe it was snowing when I left.”

“Really? But, Bobby, did you catch a last name for this Fiona person they are looking for?”

“I don’t remember. I thought of you then dismissed it when the announcer said something about a fire.”

Damnation, now what had happened? How did my name come up, if one of my so-called friends had not offered it to the police?

“No,” I said, “of course, that’s not me. Now what were you saying about Minneapolis?”

My mind focused on my next move. I had to check out the news report, so I slithered out of Bobby’s monologue on the mid-west as soon as I politely could and hightailed it to the nearest TV. Bobby hadn’t been kidding. After cycling through all the usual exciting news of the day, there was a short blip on a major fire in McLean. Police were looking for information on one, Fiona Marlowe, who may have perished in the fire.

What game was the Jesse James gang playing now?

It was time to call Jake and tell him where to pick up his truck. Maybe he could tell me more.

He picked up on the first ring. “Fiona?”

“Your truck is parked at BWI airport, section A3. Why is my name in the news?”

“You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“No.”

“You stole our rig.”

“Borrowed. I just borrowed it. The keys are under the floor mat.”

“Listen, Fiona. You have to come back.”

“Can’t do it. I’m on my way to Moscow.”

“No, you aren’t. You hate cold weather. I can find you in Sydney.”

“I’m not in Sydney. Why is my name on TV news?”

“We suggested the police put out an APB on you, because maybe you had been in the house decorating when the fire broke out and got trapped in the flames.”

“Very clever of you, Jake, but it won’t work. Tell the police you found me. I’d like my name taken off the TV news.”

“Fiona.”

I waited. “I’m hanging up now. Take my name off the damn TV or. . “

“Or what?”

I hung up.

The phone rang back, and I let it go to messaging. I waited, considering my options while watching harried travelers scurry through the airport. Curiosity overtook me, and I listened to the message.

“Fiona, we’re in a bit of a jam here. We need you to testify that Hudson was with you on the night of the fire. I mean, me, Cody and Opal, we need you to testify that we all were with you. The police suspect Hudson. I know how much you like Hudson. Come back to help him out.”

I was the alibi. Very clever.

I phoned Jake.

“Where’s Hudson now?”

“Right here, I’ll put him on.”

“Miss Marlowe, how good to hear your voice.”

“Hudson, are you being charged with arson?”

“Not yet. The police have not finished the investigation. But they seem less friendly now than when they came to investigate Mr. Lodge’s demise.”

“Where are you?”

“In a hotel. We’ve been asked not to leave town. We are wanted for more questioning.”

“What’s your alibi?”

“I was at the same party at your place with Jake, Cody and Opal. You will cover for me, won’t you, Miss Marlowe?”

“I don’t know. I have to think this over.”

“It would certainly help. I would be forever indebted to you.”

“Hudson, you need to get away from that bunch. You are small potatoes in this caper.”

“No, Miss Marlowe. I’m the big potato, as you say. I’m the one with the money.”

How dumb of me not to make the connection.

“Did you make a deal with the family?”

“Yes.”

“They get a cut of the money?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

He lowered his voice. “Quite a bit. But the estate was left to me, and I can’t get the money if I go to jail for arson, can I? This complicates matters now that the house will have to be renovated before I can sell it.”

“I’d hate to see you go to jail. But something doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Yes?”

“How did you set the fire?”

“Accomplices,” he said in a mere whisper.

“And they will go un-named.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me who’s black mailing you and why?”

He cleared his throat. “Jake wants to talk to you.”

“Hudson, wait. . .”

“Fiona,” Jake said, “are you going to help us? What can I promise you?”

“You don’t seem to understand that I am trying to separate myself from the Wild West show.”

“Opal said she’d give you a nice little place she has on the ranch and a few acres, if you’ll help us out.”

That was a clever bribe. I didn’t answer and Jake said, “She also needs her house redecorated. She’d like to engage your services.”

“Really?” I said. This sounded lucrative. I’d never been bribed before, but I could see its advantages. I’d always nursed a hankering for a place out west. I wondered what Opal’s spread looked like. I pictured herds of cattle, cowboys on horseback looking like the Marlboro Man, big skies, rattlesnakes.

“She says you have free reign, no budgetary limits. What do you say? A nice decorating job, a little place out west, get away from the big city.”

The lure was too good to pass up. “What’s my guarantee that you’ll make good on these bribes.”

“Bribes? Fiona, these are incentives.”

“What’s to keep you from backing out after I show up and perjure myself?”

Jake didn’t answer at first. I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Jake?”

“How about my word?”

“How about a signed contract for redesigning Opal’s house and a deed to her little place. Photos would be nice, too, just to make sure I like it. Let me talk to Opal.”

“Right, here she is.”

“Fiona, it’s true. I want you to have this nice bunkhouse that’s sitting empty on my place. It’s got a pretty view of the mountains and a tree. It doesn’t sit too close to my house and is on a little knoll so you won’t have to worry about spring flooding. You’ll like it. I’ve been meaning to find just the right person to live there. I’ll write out a contract and a letter deeding the place to you.”

“It’s a deal.”

The drive around the Capitol Beltway gave me time to have second thoughts. It was late. I was tired. By the time I arrived at the Marriott Tysons Corner in Virginia where the Wild West show was staying, I had decided my return was a bad idea. As I drove by the front entrance in that humongous truck, looking for a parking space, I spotted Alice under the portico. I did a double take. She was in profile, standing alone by the door. But it was her. I needed to talk to that woman.

I found a place to park which, unfortunately, was at the end of a long row of fancy cars, the only place big enough for the monster truck. Even though it was dark, I put on my sunglasses, shouldered my bag, and, carefully, made my way toward where I saw Alice standing. She was gone. I hurried inside, gyrating in all directions but at the same time trying to be cool behind the Hollywood glasses. I almost collided with Jake who came into the lobby from the bar.

“Fiona, you are a princess.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me till I cried time out.

“Wait,” I said, “I’ve changed my mind. I can’t do this. I could end up in jail.”