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since I was little. I felt like I was in love with two demanding men at the same time.
“Can’t I be both?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Can you?”
I could. I wanted both things so badly that I would find a way. “I can. I’m sorry. I’ll get to it first thing tomorrow. I’ll even get up early.”
Another silence.
“Really. I’ll hit the street by eight o’clock at the latest.”
“I should be in the office tomorrow afternoon,” said Uncle Bob. “Call me then and fill me in.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
CHAPTER 12
My sunburned shoulders now felt hot and tender, my head a bit achy, and my stomach aflutter with something other than romance. There were few people in the world I wanted to please as much as my uncle. I just hadn’t thought things all the way through, both in terms of what I needed to do for this investigation, and what it might mean to be a PI while pursuing an acting career. This not-thinking-things-through was an unfortunate habit of mine, as evidenced by my burned-up apartment.
But right now it was dress rehearsal, and I had to buck up and get into costume. I pulled on my first Teasel outfit, a tarted-up sailor suit with a pleated micro-miniskirt and a low-cut top that tied at the midriff.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The ridiculous and somehow sexy costume flattered me, as long I kept doing my morning sit-ups. But my face…Sixteen years old seemed a stretch. I figured that the distance onstage helped, but just in case, I put extra blush on the apples of my cheeks, hoping for a youthful glow.
Candy opened the door and glanced at me in the mirror. “You got a fever, hon?” She laid a hand on my forehead.
I wiped off the extra blush with a Kleenex. Strike that idea. “Just worried about looking young enough onstage,” I said.
“That’s the magic of theater,” said Candy. “You say you’re sixteen, the audience believes it.”
I noticed that she didn’t actually say anything about me looking young enough.
“I mean look at Liesl in The Sound of Music movie.” Candy whizzed around the dressing room, grabbing her nun costume and veil off a hanger. “She looked twenty-five, but we believed she was sixteen.”
“Actually it sounds like you thought she was twenty-five.”
“Huh.” That stopped her. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Oh well. I decided to believe in the magic of theater and finished getting ready. Once done, I took my place in the greenroom to wait with the rest of the cast and eat the homemade cookies supplied by one of the nun actresses.
“Hey,” Arnie said to me. “What happened to that big smile we saw earlier?”
“She’s worried about looking sixteen,” said Candy.
“Oh, dear,” said Bitsy. She didn’t say anything else, but she did look pointedly at the calorie-laden cookie in my hand. I took a big bite, just for spite and because it was delicious.
“No,” I said, as much to myself as anyone else. “I’m mad at myself. I need to do a neighborhood investigation and I really should have done it earlier.”
“Neighborhood investigation?” said Bitsy.
“Yeah, for that case I’m on. I need to go interview Charlie’s neighbors.”
“I told Amy about Ivy. Got her the job.” Marge poured a cup of coffee from the thermos she always brought.
“Amy?” Arnie said. “Are we talking about Charlie Small?”
“Yeah, I’m investigating his death.” I heard several intakes of breath. A clue? Nah. These were naturally dramatic folks.
“I thought he committed suicide,” Arnie said.
“You knew him?” I said.
“Sure.” Arnie helped himself to a cookie. “He was on our board.”
“And in my karaoke club,” said Bitsy.
“Everybody knew Charlie,” said Marge. “He was a sweetie.”
“So what’s a neighborhood investigation?” said Roger.
“Oh, I interview the neighbors, scout the area for clues, that sort of thing.”
“Do you want to use my spy sunglasses?” asked Arnie. “They look like regular
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia