Free Bitty and the Naked Ladies by Phyllis Smallman Page B

snowbirds had flown north for the season.
    The nurse drove to a deli. It was ninety degrees already and my air conditioning wasn’t working. After fifteen minutes of waiting in the furnace of my car I fled to a card shop, hovering near the front window and watching the deli.
    When the nurse came out again I followed her to an estate out on Beach Road and watched her go into a pink stucco mansion. Hoping she’d be staying there for awhile, I drove to the address Bitty had given me; a sub-division built in the late forties with narrow lots and two-bedroom houses.
    The nurse’s house looked abandoned. A crumbling concrete path led to a tilting front stoop and a faded blue door. I knocked loudly, praying no one would answer, waited awhile and then banged even harder. No one came to tell me to get stuffed so I cupped my hands and tried to peek through the diamond shaped window of the door. My reward was the sight of a blank wall in mustard yellow.
    A screen door banged to my left. I jumped back from the door. My heart was pounding as if I’d been caught doing what I was only considering.
    A man in his sixties, naked but for wrinkled cotton shorts slung low beneath his belly, stood on the porch with his hands on his hips. The white hair covering his chest was as thick as a Brillo pad while his head was smooth and shiny. “She ain’t home.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œYou the niece?”
    â€œYup.” I smiled widely, trying to look honest.
    â€œYou’re early.”
    I nodded.
    He waved a hand. “Come on over here. I got it.”
    I almost blurted out, “got what?” but fortunately he’d already gone back inside, letting the door slam behind him, before my mouth gave me away.
    The burnt grass crunched under my feet. I looked around uneasily and then climbed the steps to the pale green house.
    The door opened and the man came out carrying a cardboard box which said it contained baked beans.
    â€œHow’s your Dad?” he asked, still holding the box.
    â€œGood.”
    His eyes widened in surprise.
    â€œHe’s doing better,” I amended.
    His brow smoothed out. “That’s good. Hell of a thing to happen.”
    I nodded in agreement.
    â€œSo you’re taking over the flea market stall?”
    â€œYup.” I held my hands out for the box.
    â€œI don’t know where your aunt finds all this stuff.” He transferred the box to my arms. “Junk mostly. Surprising what people will buy, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt sure is.” I started down the steps with my prize. “Thank you,” I called over my shoulder and walked quickly to my car without looking back.
    I unpacked the box carefully, spreading the contents over my kitchen table. There was a small jade green vase, a rosewood colored box and various knick knacks, including a flamingo salt and pepper shaker. At the bottom was a large heavy object rapped in several layers of newspaper. I sat it on the table and stripped away the paper. A glass vase with female nudes dancing around the outside appeared from the wrappings. Bitty’s naked ladies.
    On-line it didn’t take me long to identify the vase. It wasn’t La Lake but a rare Lalique and it was worth about seventy-five thousand dollars.
    Visions of sugarplums danced in my head. I was rich. No more paying the minimum on my credit cards each month while my pain grew. Best of all, no more twelve-year old crapped out Firebird with no air-conditioning.
    Greed led me into temptation and delivered me to evil. “No one will find out,” it assured me, the kicker, the thing that made it so perfect. The nurse couldn’t tell anyone and for sure Miss Jane was never going to miss the vase. Her train had already left the station. And Bitty, well Bitty would think it was all in her head.
    The porch light came on. Through the glass door I watched Bitty shuffling towards me, her bloated ankles flowing over her lace-less runners