Free Ms America and the Whoopsie in Winona by Diana Dempsey Page B

whispers. We duck into my room for a confab. “The Polish Cultural Institute and Museum.”
    “They have one of those here?”
    “Can you believe it? Detective Dembek said there’s a large Polish community in Winona and there must be. Anyway, with all the exhibits and the gift shop I can keep her there for hours. But they close at 3.”
    “So I’ve got to get cracking with the search as soon as Mario and I are done with the run.” If I were a lesser beauty queen, I’d skip the run. But given the calories I’ve been ingesting, I have to exercise. I want to maximize lots of things in my life but not my blimp potential.
    “What are you wearing to go running?” Trixie wants to know.
    I show off my triple-waistband black capris—which streamline the hips and minimize the booty—and my lightweight hot pink performance jacket.
    “I love that shirring on the front,” Trixie purrs. “Very feminine. What about to hold back your hair?”
    I produce my plum-colored chunky-knit headband with the rear button detail.
    “I want one!” she cries, the best reaction you can get from a fellow fashionista.
    Mario returns to Damsgard perfectly outfitted for a cold-weather run in a flash all-black outfit. He cocks his head at the statue holding pride of place in Windom Park, across the street from Damsgard. “Let’s stretch there,” he suggests.
    Our running shoes crunch on the icy snow sparkling in the December sunshine as we approach the fountain—of course shut down for winter—over which the statue presides. She is We-No-Nah, the Dakota Indian girl for whom the town is named. She’s depicted shielding her eyes as she gazes into the distance, pelicans and turtles at her feet.
    Mario reads from the plaque. “ ‘Legend tells of her love for a simple hunter instead of the warrior chosen by her father. Rather than marry a man she didn’t love, We-No-Nah climbed to the top of a bluff overlooking the river, proclaimed her true love and jumped to her death.’ ”
    He falls silent. I feel his eyes on my face. Finally he speaks again. “Most of us don’t have to go to such extraordinary lengths for love.”
    This is a little heavy for me. The L word has no place in any conversation I have with Mario, even if we’re talking about a headstrong Indian girl who died centuries ago.
    I make my voice light. “Those pelicans fell down on the job. They should’ve caught her before she hit the ground.” I jog in place a few times. “Come on, let’s go,” I say, and off I tear. Mario follows, as I knew he would.
    One of these days he and I are going to have to talk about what the heck we’re doing. That’ll be a serious discussion. But I’m far from ready to have it.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    “Who’s that on your porch?” Mario wants to know when we finish our circuit and come to a panting stop in Windom Park.
    I double over, my hands on my thighs, and squint in the direction of Damsgard. Indeed there is a woman on the porch. I know immediately who she is. I recognize her chic gray parka with real shearling at the collar and cuffs. “That’s Priscilla Pembroke! She’s come back.” I pull Mario behind the gazebo so Priscilla won’t see us and explain who she is. “She’s looking for something,” I add.
    “No doubt about it.”
    We watch as she bends over and feels around the base of the topiary. We’ve already seen her lift the holiday welcome mat and peer underneath.
    I grab Mario’s arm. “She must be looking for a key! She wants to break into the house.” Boy, was I right to peg Priscilla as nervy. I wonder what she’s after? Obviously she came back for something. It’s safe to say this behavior doesn’t remove her from my suspects list. I gesture for Mario to follow me and we make our way toward the house.
    Priscilla sees us as we mount the steps to the porch. “Hello!” She makes a good show of appearing delighted that we’ve returned, which I doubt is true. She gives Mario an approving once-over.