“Aunt Claire?”
“Just a second, honey. I’m on the phone. I’m sorry, my nephew was talking to me. So you’ve been bad-mouthing me all over town, eh?”
“Ha, ha.”
Michaelaen tugged on her shorts.
She opened her eyes to their widest circumference and clenched her teeth back and forth at him. Then she shooed him away with a brisk, determined backhand.
“… so if you haven’t already started work on the book,” Dodd was saying as Michaelaen’s hunched little back retreated out the door, “we were discussing using you to catalogue the gallery’s American Women show.”
“Which gallery?” Claire poked her nose through the blind and watched him meander out into the street. Iris stood out on her lawn raking seed.
“The Volkert.”
Even she had heard of that one. But without all of her equipment … “I’m awfully sorry, Jupiter, but you see—”
“Of course, we’ll pay your day rate.”
“Yes, but … did you say day rate?”
“We don’t pay more than day rate for catalogue. Nobody does.”
“What sort of stuff is it?” She could always start off with her dad’s Contax. Rent anything else she’d need. Day rate might not put a dent in a down payment for a house but it would go a long way toward buying chintz over on Grand Street and recovering Salvation Army furniture.
“Mostly modernistic. Objective symbolism. You know, message stuff. That Grillo has such a colossal conscience.”
“That’s okay. I even like that kind of thing. I admire significance.” At least, she confided to herself, a job like this wouldn’t compromise her treasured integrity. “To tell you the truth,” she told him, “I’d jump at the chance.”
“Hmm. I’m afraid there are a couple pop op things, if that offends you.”
“Well, it does. But I’d overlook it for the chance to shoot the Grillos. She’s very good. I might shoot them at the beach.”
“The beach?”
“Yeah.”
“Why not. I guess.”
Michaelaen let himself out the back door and watched his ball bounce down the steps. Oh. The moon was already over in the sky and the sun was still out at the same time. That would mean something. Miss von Lillienfeld would know what. He walked carefully across the yard and said hello softly to the rabbits. The sprinkler was on, going easy does it back and forth with a squeak every time and he stood right beside it, waiting with his clenched-hard jaw until the inevitable arc of wet would crush him suddenly with icy cold. He knew that this time if he got caught, he’d really get in trouble. This time there wouldn’t be Miguel or anyone to make the whole thing fun. No more taking silly pictures anymore, either. He whistled a little bit and looked around. Aunt Carmela came down from the bus stop and went in the house and then the coast was clear. Michaelaen took the screen off Mrs. Dixon’s cellar window, climbed inside, and pulled the screen back up into place.
They hung up after ten more minutes of making plans. Claire rubbed her hands together energetically and looked around for the dog. She was going to give him a slobbering kiss. But he must have gone out. Anyway, he wasn’t in the kitchen. Oops. She must go out and get Michaelaen. He really wasn’t supposed to be out on his own.
“Michaelaen!”
“He’s scouring the lawn for money.”
“Carmela. Did you drop a cufflink in Freddy’s car?”
“Lower your voice, if you don’t mind.”
“Just did you?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I found it in your car—”
“Oh, my car! What a riot. I can’t believe you got it back already.”
“You’re welcome. And I gave it to Johnny and he took it down to the station house.”
“Took what down to where?”
“Carmela. This roulette wheel cufflink that I found in your car happens to be a clue. Maybe.”
“Oh, I can’t bear it. A clue. Who are you now, Miss Marple?”
Claire felt her pulse quicken. She could have strangled her. Instead, she told her about her new job. It did the trick, all right. Carmela smiled unconvincingly and turned scarlet.
“So, what is it, for a month or so?”
“Yeah, you know. As long as it takes me to cover each one. Maybe a couple of months.” Screw her. She was fed up with always treading carefully around Carmela’s ego. And it wasn’t as though the *footing helped any. She was as arrogant as ever, if not worse. “And by the way, if you’re still interested in Stefan, I believe he’s a free agent.”
“You mean it’s over with you two?”
“Most definitely.”
“Meaning you’re back on with Benedetto.”
“Not necessarily. But yes.” She grinned foolishly.
“Honey bunny, you are so stupid.”
“I know.”