Chapter 15
Fifteen
By the time the weekend rolled around, we were no closer to catching the culprit. We had some new leads:
The mysterious blue sweater snapshot, which, at this point, might as well be Big Foot for all the good it’s done us.
Two eyewitness accounts of Mayor Thornberry scurrying across the backyard and disappearing into the bush to rendezvous with a woman who may or may not be Aunt Cherry — if judged solely by her clear crystal mules.
The possibility of Paige making a latte that sent my lactose intolerant sister to the bathroom.
The even wilder possibility of Jen faking her own diarrhea episode so she can shimmy out the bathroom window (disguised as Aunt Cherry, for some reason) to rendezvous with the mayor in the bushes.
And that’s just cracking the surface of the iceberg.
We have more suspects to interrogate and I don’t know how much more new evidence I can take without plunging myself into a deep depression.
Everything we’ve uncovered so far has only made me lose faith in — and respect for—my guests.
You never realize how incredibly weird people were until you start investigating them for stealth holiday pooping.
“I’m looking forward to this birthday party like I’m looking forward to a root canal,” I say on the drive over to my aunt and uncle’s gaudy McMansion on Hyacinth Way. “And that’s sad to say, since I love parties.”
We’re headed to the birthday party of my four-year-old niece Chloe and killing a nest of birds with one stone.
Cousin Victor and his family lives with Aunt Cherry and Uncle Tony.
Everyone we haven’t interrogated will be there.
Elliot will have the opportunity to frisk them all.
Let’s hope he does it more subtly this time.
“So this is the new boyfriend!” Aunt Cherry ushers us through her grand foyer, her rhinestone encrusted slides clip-clopping, horse-like, on the marble floor.
Mochi, her English bulldog, trots alongside her, rasping so heavily that I have the urge to pick her up to save her the effort of walking on her tiny legs.
“So handsome and tall!” Aunt Cherry circles Elliot like he’s a piece of meat on a butcher’s block.
I die a little inside. Gotta love blunt Asian aunties.
Aunt Cherry winks at me and cups her mouth, her magenta lips less swollen now that the filler had time to settle. “You know how to pick ‘em.”
“Er, thanks Auntie Cherry.”
“No problem,” she says, fluttering her fingers at me, her shimmery mauve nails clinking together. “Come this way…”
She leads us through a home gilded in faux gold trim. The staircase banister is gold. The picture frames are gilded. Even the plasterwork around the eaves is painted in shimmery gold paint. Where there isn’t gold, there’s marble… Mable floors, countertops, statues.
“Your house is…” Elliot glances around, marveling at the plaster golden ivy leaves. “I’ve never seen a house like this.”
Aunt Cherry preens. “French Country. Modeled after Versailles.”
I can see the tick in Elliot’s jaw, a sign that he’s trying to be polite as opposed to the blunt jerk he is around me. He clears his throat and says, most cordially, “There’s no doubt that Versailles is a country house.”
“It’s bigger than Holly’s house,” Aunt Cherry says, smiling smugly at me. “See? Your boyfriend likes this house better. You should have bought the one across the street.”
“You mean that monstrosity across the street?” I blurt out.
Aunt Cherry tsks. “There she goes again. Thinks she’s too good for this neighborhood.
Maybe we don’t all want to live in tiny old houses like Ms. High and Mighty here.
” Batting her falsies, she smiles sweetly at Elliot and shoos us through the sliding glass door to her enormous backyard where the birthday party was in full swing.
“You two grab a plate and I’ll join you in a minute. I have to see to these noddles.”
“Is it me?” Elliot asks when we were safely out of earshot, “or was there some animosity going on between the two of you?”
“It’s not just you,” I say, setting down my present on the table and waving to everyone. “It’s a long story. But first…” I put on my brightest smile. “Hi Everyone! We’re here!”
As far as birthday parties went, Aunt Cherry dropped the ball on decor.
There were a few streamers in three shades of winter blue and a rented castle bounce house (slightly dirty, rainbow-colored, ill-matched to the Frozen theme).
Immediately, I begin to re-imagine how spectacularly on-theme Chloe’s big day would look if I had planned it.
I’d have actual ice sculptures made… transformed this weedy backyard into a real life Arendelle…
“Holly!” My mom calls me from a buffet table loaded with silver trays. “Stop standing there looking stupid. Bring boyfriend over here… I have ginseng and jujube berry soup to fix his soft man thing!”
Elliot turns to me, uncertainty written across his face. “I’m scared.”
“If I were you, I should be…”
For the next half hour, we’re sucked into the birthday party.
I introduce Elliot to everyone and tour him around like he’s my brand new car.
It’s embarrassing to say, but this is how it feels like when you have a new love interest at a family get-together.
Everybody wants to know how he drives (what he does for a living so they can determine how much money he makes), admire the paint job (his looks), and then, if you’re my Aunt Cherry, immediately put him to work fixing the busted fog machine in time for the hired princess’ arrival.
As the birthday girl and her friends huddle around Elsa, Aunt Cherry and my mom corner me by the buffet table.
“You’ve picked a good one,” Aunt Cherry says, piling more of her signature Dan Dan noodles onto my plate. “But a private investigator…?”
Tongs frozen in mid-air, she checks over her shoulder at how Elliot is doing in the company of her husband and son.
Elliot has Cousin Victor and Uncle Tony cornered by the fire pit. Uncle Tony lounges in a lawn chair, three empty bottles of Corona on the ground beside him. Tony is busy drinking and barely talking.
Victor, a buffer version of his beer-bellied dad, is chatting up a storm and gesticulating wildly. Elliot nods, periodically jotting down items in his notebook.
Either Elliot is interrogating both of them or he’s been dragged into one of Victor’s investment schemes. I hope Victor’s not trying to enlist the next sucker in his new business venture.
“It’s a shame he’s so poor,” Aunt Cherry says, handing me a full plate.
“Elliot’s not poor!” I defer to my mom for back up.
As the older of the two sisters and the only one wearing a respectable purple puffer jacket, I trust my mom to be the voice of reason. Aunt Cherry, with her bedazzled floral top and leopard tights, can only lead me down the road of rhinestone and ruin.
“You leave Elliot alone,” Mom chides. “His business is new. He will make more money in future and if not…” She shrugs. “He can return to insurance fraud investigator. Then he will bust you,” she points at Cherry, “for all your fraud.”
“Shhhh!” Cherry checks behind her shoulder. “I don’t know a thing about fraud.”
“You have one son, but you claim two children on taxes.”
“Ivy is like my daughter,” says Cherry, offended.
“Ivy is your daughter-in-law. Not child.”
“‘Daughter-in-law’ means daughter.”
I clasp my hands over my ears. “Whatever books you’re cooking, I don’t want to know.”
“Elliot is helping Holly catch who pooped under her tree,” Mom says as if this were news.
By now, everyone in town knows about the poop, but not everyone knows I’ve hired Elliot— and I want to keep it that way.
I don’t know why Elliot and I continue to pretend we’re still dating, actually.
When you’ve been in a fake relationship as long as we have, it’s a hassle to fake break up.
Mom tilts her head to the side. “You hired him to find pooper? That’s why you two always together?”
“What are you saying?,” I ask over a mouthful of noodles. “That Elliot would only be with me if I hired him? Like he’s some kind of male stripper with tear away pants?”
Aunt Cherry appraises Elliot from afar. “He would make a terrific stripper.”
“Aiya, Cherry!” Mom says. “So suspicious… you two. Together so suddenly.”
I almost choke on my noodles. “Why is it suspicious?” I ask, swigging water.
“Someone poops on your floor. Next day you have new boyfriend who also sexy detective?” Mom shrugs suggestively. “Must not be successful business. What crime in Mapledale? No job for him to do.”
“He has a lot of business,” I say, recalling some of Elliot’s past cases. “That time someone sat on the window ledge of the General Store. It’s not a bench, you know?”
“Petty squabbles!” Cherry shakes her head. “Much like your poop situation.”
“My poop situation is not petty.” Aunt Cherry has been taking jabs at me all night and frankly, I’m a little annoyed.
“It’s a little petty.” Shrugging, Cherry busies herself packing leftovers into plastic containers for guests to take home.
“How would you feel if one of your guests took a dump on your marble floor?” I explode.
“Most of the guests here are four-years-old. I would think it was an accident and not make such a big deal.” She narrows her eyes at me. “As you have. But you like attention…”
“I like attention?” Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Anyone who has that many rhinestones on her blouse shouldn’t talk.
I turn to my mom for support. Can you believe what she’s saying to me?
My mom taps me on the leg. Don’t get into this with her.
“Well, my guests are not four-years-old. And Chloe is too mature of a four-year-old to take a shit in the living room, unlike some of the adults in attendance…” I give Cherry a pointed look. “Did you take a shit on my floor, Aunt Cherry?”
Aunt Cherry slams down her tongs. “That’s it. Get out!”
“Yes or no?”