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through Ethel s fat wallet first, pulling out a driver s license.
Then she searched Fred s wallet.
There s two sets of ID in here, Margery said. Are you
Fred and Ethel Mertz or John and Mary Smith?
Our real name is Smith, Ethel said. But it s so com-
mon. It was embarrassing when we checked into a motel. We
had trouble cashing checks. We got tired of the jokes and
changed our names.
You re I Love Lucy fans? Helen said.
We never watched that silly show, Ethel said haughtily.
I named myself for Ethel Merman. He s a Fred MacMurray
fan.
So why aren t you Mr. and Mrs. Fred MacMurray?
DYING TO CALL YOU 199
That would make us into a joke, Ethel said. Helen gave
up.
Quit gabbing, Margery said. She seemed to have bor-
rowed her dialogue from late-night movies. Phil, will you
search their car for cash?
Phil pulled everything out of the Mertzes Chevy, even the
backseat. He checked the glove box, the wheel wells and the
spare-tire compartment. He felt under the seats and dash. He
even took off the door panels. Helen went through every box
and suitcase in the car. They didn t find another nickel.
Helen s thirty-two hundred dollars was gone for good.
Margery found five hundred dollars in the Mertzes wal-
lets. She extracted a twenty.
That will pay for my broken lamp, she said. Here,
Helen, the rest is yours. I m sorry I couldn t get it all back.
I never expected to see this much, Helen said.
Hey, how are we going to buy gas? Fred said.
In my day, Margery said, people worked for their
money. You might try it.
Phil announced that the car search was over. What can
they take with them? he asked.
They can keep the suitcases with their clothes, Margery
said. But I m confiscating all those tourist T-shirts. People
think Florida is tacky enough without Fred and Ethel wear-
ing those shirts back home.
Margery also kept a citrus juicer and a blender, both in the
original boxes. Those are ours, Fred insisted.
Show me the receipts, Margery said.
I didn t keep them, he said.
Then I keep these, Margery said. I ll use them to make
me some interesting drinks. Screwdrivers with fresh orange
juice. Margaritas and strawberry daiquiris. Lighten up, Fred.
Fresh fruit is good for you. Alcohol is a preservative.
Fred and Ethel bristled like wet cats.
Finally, they were allowed to get in their car. Don t ever
come back, Margery said. Do you understand?
Fred and Ethel had all the expression of crash-test dum-
200 Elaine Viets
mies. They nodded but said nothing. Fred started up the
ghostly white car. The foggy night quickly swallowed it.
Helen, Margery and Phil watched the crooked couple disap-
pear.
Whew, glad that s over, Margery said. This thing is
heavy. She tossed the gun onto the concrete. It spun crazily,
like a lethal party game. Helen and Phil leaped backward as
the barrel pointed in their direction.
Careful, Phil said.
It s OK, Margery said. It s not loaded. Never was. I
don t even keep bullets in the house.
Margery, that doesn t make any difference. You have to
treat every gun like it s loaded. Phil was a shade paler.
I hate guns, Margery said.
Maybe you should start packing oven cleaner, Helen
said.
Chapter 23
R
Margery stood like a triumphant queen in her purple robe,
with a crown of red sponge curlers. Her enchanted kingdom
was restored. She had banished the trolls, Fred and Ethel.
Her plundered treasures were back in apartment 2C.
The Coronado was in deep-night quiet. The other resi-
dents slept as if under a spell. White fingers of fog wrapped
themselves around the palm trees and snagged on the
bougainvillea spikes. The pool lights glowed, magical in the
mist.
Phil gave a small, neat yawn, like a cat. Helen was afraid
he would disappear into the fog, along with his wizard
weapon. Phil had been invisible for more than a year. It could
happen again. She blocked his way. You owe me an expla-
nation.
I don t owe you anything. And I can t tell you anything,
he said.
Helen could feel the heat from his bare chest. The odd,
hazy moonlight turned his hair to spun silver
Margery will vouch for me.
Her landlady pulled her purple robe tighter to ward off the
chill, then picked a loose curler from her hair. Listen, Phil,
if you told me, you can tell her. She s in the middle of it, any-
202 Elaine Viets
way. It s better if she isn t blundering about, causing more
trouble.
Thank you for that vote of confidence, Helen said,
stiffly.
Come back to my kitchen. We can get warm and talk,
Margery said. I ll make some coffee, unless you d rather
have a drink.
They settled for decaf and warm brownies at Margery s
kitchen table.
These brownies are terrific, Phil said. Are they home-
made?
He ate neatly. Helen s ex-husband, Rob, had dropped
crumbs all over the table and the floor, like a messy child in
a high chair.
Nuked them with my own two hands, Margery said.
Now, why don t you quit wasting your breath praising my
box brownies?
I m not sure where to start, Phil said.
He was stalling. Let s pick up where we were the other
night, Helen said, helpfully.
Good idea. Take off your top. Phil grinned.
Helen flushed red with anger and disappointment. The
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