Free Remains to Be Scene by R. T. Jordan

overheard Polly’s remark she gave no indication. Instead, she offered a hand as Polly and Placenta eased themselves out of the car. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Pepper,” Missie said, with a warmth and dignity that was at once deeply sincere yet not obsequious. “And you must be Tim, the famous Beverly Hills party planner,” she said leaning in to brush a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve read all about you in The Peeper . Yeah. I admit it. I read that rag just like everybody else. And you’re Placenta,” she said knowingly, also bestowing a kiss to Placenta’s cheek. “The whole family,” she smiled. In that moment Missie had disarmed them all.
    “And this is Luca,” Missie said, introducing her dog. “She’s rather old, but very docile. I love her to bits.” After a moment of tousling Luca’s well-groomed coat and patting her head, and babbling lovey-dovey baby talk to the animal, Missie’s attention returned to her guests. “Please, come inside,” she said.
    As Polly, Tim, and Placenta followed Missie and Luca down a short flagstone path, they each exchanged looks of surprise, delight, and relief at their warm reception. Then they stepped through the open doorway and into the front entrance hall.
    “You have such a lovely home, dear,” Polly cooed as she looked around and noticed the hardwood floor, a polished mahogany hall table set against the wall, and a tall faux Wedgwood ceramic urn used as a holder for umbrellas and walking sticks. A collection of four cameos grouped together in small old-fashioned oval frames added a Colonial touch to the entryway.
    “I’m afraid the Chippendale’s a fake,” Missie said modestly, nodding at the antique table. “However, it’s of the period. And the primitive is an authentic Zoto,” she said, pointing to a small rectangular oil painting.
    Missie ushered her guests into the cavernous living room which was accented with wide crown moldings, and decorated in chintz fabrics, floral print wall paper, and a baby grand piano beside a bay window that looked out over the grassy backyard and swimming pool. A wood-burning fireplace dominated the right side of the room, and expensive coffee table books with glossy color covers featuring formal English gardens, portrait paintings by Sergeant, and modern architecture seemed to be stacked everywhere. Missie implored them to make themselves comfortable.
    “If the fire gets too warm, let me know,” she said. “I realize it’s summer, but evenings get so nippy here in the canyon. A welcoming fire reminds me and Luca of home. Nibbles are on the table. More on the way.” She pointed to trays of Brie, crackers, and dips. “I’ll be back in a moment with some champers. I know that’s your favorite,” she said to Polly and embraced the trio with her radiant smile.
    While Tim and Placenta each took seats on the sofa facing the fireplace and sampled the hors d’oeuvres, Polly walked about the room, admiring the curios. She examined the numerous small tables on which were displayed photographs in expensive silver frames as well as cheap wooden ones. A built-in bookcase contained an enormous selection of contemporary and classic novels, and more framed pictures. It was one of the coziest settings in which Polly had ever recalled finding herself. “French country shabby,” she said approvingly.
    As Polly was admiring another colorful primitive painting that was hung over the fireplace mantle, Missie returned to the living room. “Miss Pepper, Tim, Placenta,” she addressed the group, “I’d like to introduce you to my darling mother.”
    Standing beside Missie was the farthest thing from anyone’s idea of a sweet little old mother. Instead the woman was a sturdy, steel gray-haired matron immaculately dressed, but seemingly uncomfortable in a mandarin collar Chinese motif silk blouse and black slacks. Her eyes were hidden behind large black plastic glasses that wrapped around the side of her face.