Read Online A Catered Birthday Party by Isis Crawford - Free Book Online
Authors: Isis Crawford
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Spanish accent now miraculously gone again. “I can tell you that people around here act like cats in heat. If I did what they’re doing my momma would have had me tarred and feathered. And now if you’ll excuse me…”
“You’re not going to stay?” Libby asked.
“Nope.”
“Who else works here?” Bernie demanded.
“No one right now. Mr. Richard let everyone go. He said he wanted to be alone with his grief. I’m the last one here.”
“He didn’t really say that?” Libby asked.
Rita put her hand up. “Swear to God that he did. And even if they were here it wouldn’t do you no good anyway. Everyone had to sign the same agreement I did.”
Bernie stared at Rita for a moment. The look. The shifts in speech patterns. The different accents. The body language. She should have gotten it before. “You’re quite the little actress, aren’t you?”
The girl grinned.
“Do you have a SAG card?” Bernie asked.
The girl’s grin broadened. “I’m working on it.”
“Is anything you told us the truth?” Bernie demanded.
The girl’s grin grew even bigger. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d like to strangle you, that’s what I think,” Bernie said. “Where did Richard get you from?”
“A mutual friend. I was between jobs and I needed a gig.” And with that she reached up and pulled off the wig she was wearing.
“Does the wig work?” she asked as she fluffed out her spiky bright green hair.
“No,” Bernie said. “It’s too distracting.”
The girl shrugged. “That’s what I told Angel.” And she stuffed the wig in the backpack that was on the counter before she turned and started out the door.
Trudy, who had been silent up till now, let out a loud belch.
“Told you not to feed her bread,” the girl said. “If she poops on the floor Richard is going to be wicked pissed.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Bernie said.
“In case you’re interested, I’m the Spanish maid in Seems Like Old Times by Neil Simon at Syracuse Stage.”
“Well, it seems like something, but it isn’t old times,” Bernie cracked.
Libby gave her sister an interrogatory look as the girl formerly known as Rita flipped them both the bird and walked out the door.
“ Seems Like Old Times is a movie,” Bernie called after her. “It never was a play. If you’re going to lie, at least get your facts straight.”
The girl popped her head back in. “Whatever. Play. Movie. Who cares?”
“Neil Simon would probably care, for one, and so should you if you’re serious about your craft,” Bernie told her.
“You’re saying I’m not?”
“I’m saying I don’t know what you are,” Bernie said.
The girl put her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you. I’m going to be a great actress one day. That’s what I’m going to be.” The girl squared up her shoulders. “And for your information, I have a bit part in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Longely Playhouse.” She wiggled her fingers. “Ta ta,” she trilled. “I’m off.”
“I don’t think there are any bit parts in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ,” Bernie mused after the girl left. “She certainly can’t play one of the children.”
“All I know,” Libby opined, “is that she is a truly exasperating person.”
“Yup,” Bernie said as Trudy puked on the floor. Maybe feeding her the bread hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Do you think anything the girl said was true?” Libby asked as Bernie went to get some paper towels off the counter.
“Dad always says there’s a kernel of truth in every lie.”
Libby tapped her fingers on the counter. “I wonder if Richard did let everyone go. That would certainly be interesting if it’s true.”
Bernie grinned. “I was thinking of the cats in heat part myself.”
“Well,” Libby said, thinking back to their other cases, “it always seems to come down to sex or money, doesn’t it?”
“Or revenge,” Bernie said. “Don’t forget revenge as a motive for murder.”
“I
“You’re not going to stay?” Libby asked.
“Nope.”
“Who else works here?” Bernie demanded.
“No one right now. Mr. Richard let everyone go. He said he wanted to be alone with his grief. I’m the last one here.”
“He didn’t really say that?” Libby asked.
Rita put her hand up. “Swear to God that he did. And even if they were here it wouldn’t do you no good anyway. Everyone had to sign the same agreement I did.”
Bernie stared at Rita for a moment. The look. The shifts in speech patterns. The different accents. The body language. She should have gotten it before. “You’re quite the little actress, aren’t you?”
The girl grinned.
“Do you have a SAG card?” Bernie asked.
The girl’s grin broadened. “I’m working on it.”
“Is anything you told us the truth?” Bernie demanded.
The girl’s grin grew even bigger. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d like to strangle you, that’s what I think,” Bernie said. “Where did Richard get you from?”
“A mutual friend. I was between jobs and I needed a gig.” And with that she reached up and pulled off the wig she was wearing.
“Does the wig work?” she asked as she fluffed out her spiky bright green hair.
“No,” Bernie said. “It’s too distracting.”
The girl shrugged. “That’s what I told Angel.” And she stuffed the wig in the backpack that was on the counter before she turned and started out the door.
Trudy, who had been silent up till now, let out a loud belch.
“Told you not to feed her bread,” the girl said. “If she poops on the floor Richard is going to be wicked pissed.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Bernie said.
“In case you’re interested, I’m the Spanish maid in Seems Like Old Times by Neil Simon at Syracuse Stage.”
“Well, it seems like something, but it isn’t old times,” Bernie cracked.
Libby gave her sister an interrogatory look as the girl formerly known as Rita flipped them both the bird and walked out the door.
“ Seems Like Old Times is a movie,” Bernie called after her. “It never was a play. If you’re going to lie, at least get your facts straight.”
The girl popped her head back in. “Whatever. Play. Movie. Who cares?”
“Neil Simon would probably care, for one, and so should you if you’re serious about your craft,” Bernie told her.
“You’re saying I’m not?”
“I’m saying I don’t know what you are,” Bernie said.
The girl put her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you. I’m going to be a great actress one day. That’s what I’m going to be.” The girl squared up her shoulders. “And for your information, I have a bit part in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Longely Playhouse.” She wiggled her fingers. “Ta ta,” she trilled. “I’m off.”
“I don’t think there are any bit parts in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ,” Bernie mused after the girl left. “She certainly can’t play one of the children.”
“All I know,” Libby opined, “is that she is a truly exasperating person.”
“Yup,” Bernie said as Trudy puked on the floor. Maybe feeding her the bread hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Do you think anything the girl said was true?” Libby asked as Bernie went to get some paper towels off the counter.
“Dad always says there’s a kernel of truth in every lie.”
Libby tapped her fingers on the counter. “I wonder if Richard did let everyone go. That would certainly be interesting if it’s true.”
Bernie grinned. “I was thinking of the cats in heat part myself.”
“Well,” Libby said, thinking back to their other cases, “it always seems to come down to sex or money, doesn’t it?”
“Or revenge,” Bernie said. “Don’t forget revenge as a motive for murder.”
“I
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