The lady was right on time and I was ready to go. At first sight, I could tell this was a woman who had been around the block a couple of times. However, when she was going around the block she was riding in style and looking for a parking spot. In a word, this woman put the "s" in sophistication and the "u" in unpretentiousness.
She wore turquoise cargo pants that were a perfect match to her loosely fitting lemon blouse and a vest that could have been from a man’s three-piece if not for the growth of cloth sunflowers instead of stripes and gold tassel trimmings. Instead of high-heeled shoes, she wore white bobby socks in pastel-colored Croc shoes.
Although it appeared she was not wearing any makeup, I suspect a misplaced water balloon to her face would destroy the illusion. Taking all of this beauty in prepared me for an evening of good food and pleasant dinner conversation even if she could not afford my fee.
Things only got better when I got in the passenger’s seat and recognized what was playing on the radio.
“Say, ma'am. Is that Poeme Electronique by Edgar Varese?”
“It most certainly is. I’m surprised you recognized it after the little you heard of it.”
“Well, ma'am, that was easy for me. I have a copy of that record at home and my parents and him were good friends. As a matter of fact, that’s why I recognized it so quickly. Not only that but I used to sort of apprentice for him all the way through high school and while I was studying to get my PI license. I performed in some of his ensembles. I liked it okay. I would have stuck with it more, but the money wasn’t all that good. Not that I didn’t have a lot of wonderful experiences; just couldn't afford it. Yes, I met and performed with John Cage and Milton Babbit, and Karlheinz Stockhausen but the gigs were few and far and in-between. So that’s why I listen but do not perform.”
“I see. But don’t you regret it? Not really. You see there was the downside of it. As soon as some of my friends knew who I was apprenticing with they would go somewhere and bring out some dog-eared music paper with some notes scribbled on it and ask me to show it to Mr. Varese. I lost a few friends that way. That’s because Mr. Varese was inundated with all sorts of mail with all sorts of badly composed music and he didn’t have the heart to reply to these people who had sent him some piss-poor music. But enough about that; tell me where are we going for dinner?”
Oh, it’s a quaint little diner just a pleasant ride from here. It’s called Pierce’s Plantation. I do so enjoy going there when the weather’s so nice and balmy. I usually take my dinner on the outside patio that overlooks this gorgeous lake. Do you have allergies Mr. Rabbitsuit?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Oh, that’s good. You had me worried for a bit. I was afraid we might be forced to dine inside where the ambiance is okay but you have to put up with a lot of background noise. So, with that question answered, would you mind if we spent the remainder of our excursion to our dining destination listening to this music in a comfortable silence?”
“No indeed, ma'am. I don’t much care for talking over good music. The way I see it is if the composers wanted you to talk over the music they would have written it into the score.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, Mr. Rabbitsuit.”
Then the comfortable silence began. When the music of Edgar Varese was finished the news came on next. I don’t remember much about the news. I remember hearing Mayor Daily of Chicago saying something to the effect that the Chicago Police weren’t going to “play nice” with any anti-war demonstrations. I remember there was a story about some student protests in Towson. But I can’t recall what that was about.
As we got further from Baltimore, the music seemed to mellow down with the setting of the sun. When we arrived at our destination Claire De Lune By Debussy had just completed the soundtrack for our twilight ride.
The word quaint was just a bit understated when it came to the description of this dining spot. I think rustic and perhaps somewhere between charming and welcoming would best describe the outside and inside ambiance of Pierces’ Plantation.
After the charming woman I was with replied to his query, “Yes, you are correct; we do have a reservation. It’s Parker and we are a bit early. I think it was for eight thirty,” the Maître d' smiled and assured us it was no problem and guided us to the outdoor patio.
Our waiter presented himself before us and took our appetizer and drink requests. After taking my first sip of my Planter’s Punch, I began the business part of our discussion by saying, “Mrs. Parker, your daughter tells me that she has good reason to believe that she is being stalked?"
“Oh, Mr. Rabbitsuit, don’t be so formal. You may call me Dorothy, and my daughter’s name is Charlotte, but we call her Charlie for short. That’s because her late father said she sang like a beautiful bird. Yes, Charlie is convinced she's being stalked. And even more so after she left your office.
“Can you tell me more, Mrs. Parker?”
“Oh, I do wish you would call me Dorothy or, even better, Dotty. I do dread the uncomfortable formality that encumbers what I hope will be a pleasant and beneficial dinner meeting.”
“In that case, Dotty, you may call me Edgar, Ed, or Suit. Suit is short for Rabbitsuit.”
“Very well, Suit. Yes, my daughter was even more convinced that this dreadful man in the blue Volkswagen Beetle was following her after she went back to that burger and chicken place in Towson. The manager asked if she and the woman who called the police were friends.
"When Charlie said no and asked why, the manager told her that the woman was found in the graveyard the next morning. An employee saw her from the diner's window.
"The manager said that the poor woman was slumped face down over a tombstone. When he realized she wasn't moving, he called the police.
"When the police arrived, they discovered the woman's tongue was cut out of her mouth and her throat cut from ear to ear. She'd been draped over the tombstone with a note pinned to the back of her dress that said “God forgives, the rest of us hold grudges.”
"Now, if that isn’t enough to set your teeth on edge, the manager said that after those gentlemen who snoop around those crime scenes had completed their investigation, they could not find a shred of evidence that could shed any light on who the killer or killers were. When the manager told the police that this woman had spotted a man who was urinating upon a gravestone and called the police. He told them those police officers let this man walk because they had no physical evidence he had urinated in the graveyard other than the word of this woman and Charlie, and that they didn’t even bother to go over to the graveyard to search for any remaining urine.
"Now, Mr. Suit, don’t that beat all? Well, I am sorry to bring up such an inappropriate dinner conversation subject. Perhaps we could table it until after we've had our dinner.”
For dinner, I had steak cooked medium rare with a good sear, shoestring potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. She had broiled a rack of lamb with mint jelly, string beans, and potatoes Julian.
We did not rush into any more of the conversation for a while. Then Dorothy put her napkin to her mouth and demurely said, “I think we should return to our previous conversation, don’t you?”
“Sure thing. However, there’s one thing I have to tell you.”
“And just what is that?”
“Well, I had been working on this case as a favor for a friend. Your daughter's boyfriend is my godson, and he came to me with this story. I told him I needed some definite proof that this schmuck was stalking her. We came up with this crazy plan.
"The first thing I did was call his dad who has the Ford dealership on Joppa Road since your daughter told me she had just purchased a new Ford Bronco. I found out the dealership's “loaner” vehicle is the same dark blue Bronco. Perfect for what we were planning. After I got the car I went down to the Black Panther Party Office by East Preston Street and bought a Free Huey! bumper sticker and stuck it on the side of the bumper where your daughter had placed her bumper sticker. After that, I bought a nice blond wig from Murries Wigs. Then I topped things off with a red beret just like the one your daughter wears.
"I hoped our stalker was not a stickler for details and wasn’t going to nitpick about who he was gonna stalk. I figured if all this putz could see was a driver with blond hair, a red beret, and a Free Huey! bumper sticker, he'd follow. So, I had Ralph tell your daughter what to do if putz followed her from her place. Okay, you with me? Good.
"So we put our plan into action. I went to your daughter's apartment complex and waited for the bozo to park in front of your daughter's building. Ralph parked his car behind the bug, and I parked behind Ralph. We waited, and just like clockwork, your daughter gets in her car and follows Ralph's instructions when bozo followed her. I pulled up behind him. And Ralph pulled up behind me. I pulled alongside the bug and Ralph got behind me. I made sure that bozo sees me at the red light. That’s when this fool “thinks” I am your daughter and cuts Ralph off so that he can follow the blonde in the Ford Bronco.
"Then off the three of us go, with me in front. This mental midget is behind me, and Ralph is shooting pics of his tags with his fancy Argus camera. I make a left on Northern Parkway. He's right behind me with Ralph on his tail.
"I stopped at the light on Northern Parkway and Falls Road. I got out and started yelling loudly about him following me, and he took the bait. Charlie Tuna claims he wasn’t following me on purpose. When Ralph honks the horn, he turns around and Ralph snaps his picture.
"I get back in the car. Ralph jumps back in his car and makes a hard right turn onto Falls Road before our patsy knows what’s what. Then I go back to Bob Davidson Ford on West Joppa Road and take the Free Huey! bumper sticker off the bumper and call it a day. The next day I go to the DMV in Glen Burnie where I use my charm, prowess, and charisma to sweet-talk my sister-in-law Ethel to do a little background check. Now here’s where it gets strange. When she runs the check she discovers the plates on the bug were reported stolen. And the plates were stolen from a Cadillac that had been repossessed by the Friendly Finance Company a week before this man started stalking your daughter.
"That just about brings us up to where we are today. We have no idea even though we have a good picture of this man. The Baltimore Police have no record of who this man is. I sent a copy of his picture to the FBI and they have no record of who he is either. However, we do have one glimmer of hope.
"Just on a whim, I showed Ethel the picture of the creep, and she said that he looked like someone she had read about a few years ago. Said his name was Charlie Hogsford. She said she knew this girl named Sally Jo Redford who worked with your daughter one summer at Hochschild Cohens. This Charlie fella was a co-worker with her and your daughter. They had sort of a friendly work relationship.
"Then she tells me that the co-worker pal gets drafted, and while he’s off in Vietnam, Sally Jo meets George Lindt. Yeah, the heir to the Lindt Chocolatier and the owner of Lindt Chocolates in Switzerland. Now to make a long story short, Sally Jo Redford and George Lint get married, she goes home to live with him in some Swiss Chalet, and lives there happily ever after. Then Ethel tells me that when Charles Hogsford returns home from Vietnam he calls up Sally Jo Redford’s folks and finds out that Sally is now off in Switzerland. When Charles Hogsford hears the news, he goes all ape-shit on the phone and starts asking Sally Jo’s mom how she could do this to him. And he goes on and on about how he and Sally Jo had a special friendship and this and that and the other thing. So finally Sally Jo’s mom hangs up on him. But he keeps on calling until she gets a restraining order. And then when she thinks everything is okay she gets a bouquet of black roses delivered to her door with a card that reads “God Forgives, The Rest Of Us Hold Grudges” and that’s about where we are today. Before I go on, Ethel said to send her regards to you and that you should give a call. Apparently, the two of you go back a ways. So, Mrs. Parker, do you still want me to do some more investigating for you?
“Sure.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, you know how to hold your liquor. You know how to hold up your end of a conversation. And you don’t talk to my tits when we are engaging in conversation.”