Page 39 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
‘Psychic. And we went to school together.’
Angela moved her enormous handbag out of the way (what on earth was in it? Scale models of her property listings?) so that Dierdre could set down the jumble of colourful plates and teapots. Lily’s was shaped like a haunted house, and the giant pot that Angela and Tink were sharing was a rainbow, with a shooting star functioning as the spout. Aunt Dot’s was an art deco delight redolent of her gorgeous cinema.
‘Yes, Rainbowpot! Our trusty steed.’ Tink happily walked the teapot over to her teacup.
‘So, speaking of Mort, he and I on a missing person case,’ said Lily. ‘Well, mostly me, because he doesn’t know about it yet. But still.’
‘Dotell,’ mumbled Angela through a giant bite of flaky pastry.‘I love a good murder mystery podcast. The gorier the better. Especially when the quiet, keeps-to-himself neighbour did it.’
‘The neighbour, in the basement, with the kitchen utensil.’ Tink’s eyes widened excitedly over her spotty teacup. ‘Clue should do a serial killer special edition.’
‘Do you remember the girl from the movie night when Frank and Derrick temporarily died?’ began Lily.
How was she even going to broach this subject?So, absent of all logic and evidence, Mort and I suspect that same girl accidentally caused a magical rainstorm that switcherooed our businesses, and that she alone can reverse the spell. And yes, I did stand under the Grand Gazebo screaming, ‘You’re not dead to me!’ until my throat hurt, but no dice.
‘Sorry again about the temporary death thing,’ called Aunt Dot from the next table, where she was playing Scrabble with herself (quite competitively, too). ‘I still think it was a photosensitivity thing. Bastien is still figuring out the projector.’
Oh yes, thought Lily,definitelya photosensitivity thing. Definitely not a black magic swapsies issue at all.
‘At least the whole second-coming-of-Derrick thing has been good for the bodega,’ added Angela. ‘He’s talking about expanding into the building next door.’
Tink frowned. ‘The old church?’
Angela sipped her tea. ‘There are no zoning laws against what a group of consenting adults do in their spare time. Besides, cults are always good for their lease terms. They tithe.’
Lily was beginning to wonder if perhaps the switcheroo wasn’t the weirdest thing that Mirage-by-the-Sea had endured.
‘But anyway, back to what Lily was saying about the girl from the other night,’ said Angela. ‘The one with the smarmy boyfriend, right?’
Tink made a face. ‘Ugh, I heard about the proposal.’
Angela made an even worse face. ‘Everyoneheard about the proposal.’
‘Not everyone can do it in El Ateneo in Argentina, babe,’ said Tink, smugly. ‘That’s where we got engaged,’ she added, in a stage whisper.
‘It was a good time,’ said Angela. ‘Except for the bit where I had an allergic reaction to something in an alfajor and was rampaging around the pharmacies begging for antihistamines and then the antihistamines made me a raging bitch and we got in a fight at the restaurant where that waiter was being a total dick because tourists are the lowest life form, and I almost shoved his pepper shaker up—’
Tink put a hand on Angela’s gold-bangle-adorned wrist, patting it soothingly. ‘And despite all that, love prevailed.’
‘Wow.’ Lily giggled around the mouthful of lavender cream that her croissant had dissolved into. ‘This sort of thing is why I do what I do. So, back to the disastrous proposal that did not end in loving matrimony, but has had bizarre repercussions that I can’t talk about just yet.’
‘Oooh?’ Angela tucked her bob behind her ears to show just how well she was listening. ‘Iloverepercussions. You can tell us.’
No, nope. As far as the town needed to know, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, save for the fact that Mort had discovered a sudden soft spot for poodle statues. Lily was not going to broadcast the switcheroo any more than she needed to.
Lily shook her head. ‘I have a very strict NDA. Anyway, I need to find that girl, and since the two of you know everyone …’
‘We really do,’ said Tink. ‘Social butterflies, we are. Dot, can you help?
Aunt Dot shook her turbaned head. ‘Mr Smarmy paid for their drinks, so he’s the only one I carded. And he paid in cash, so no credit card trail.’
‘Cash, hmm,’ said Angela. ‘The currency of a person trying to get away with something. Also old people. Who, if my Pops is anything to go by, are also usually trying to get way with something.’
‘Her Pops has his whole change scam going,’ explained Tink. ‘He’s banned from the bodega. And the local fountains. So we’re trying to find this girl, huh? Do you have a smart doorbell?’
‘I do!’ said Lily. She’d spent hours online with Tech Support last night begging for them to stop said doorbell playing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ every time Roddy came up by with a delivery. The best they’d been able to manage was a universal mute function.
(Mom, who’d been on the phone during the whole conversation, had been dismayed to hear that anyone could consider muting Celine. And had also enquired about Roddy’s relationship status for the next time she came back on the market, which would most likely be soon.)
