did you have for dinner, Celeste?” The housekeeper’s name wasn’t really Celeste. It was Myrna Wojouski. Mitzi thought the name Celeste sounded more ethereal, more in tune with the stars and the universe.
“I had a small T-bone that was very pink, French fries with lots of ketchup, some fresh string beans, and a brownie with ice cream.”
Mitzi snorted. “Then you better call me on the house phone in case you keel over. I thought I heard your arteries snapping shut a while ago. What are you going to see?”
“A Brad Pitt movie. You know how I lust after him.”
“Are you still writing fan letters to him that he doesn’t answer?”
“He’s busy, Mitzi. I never expect an answer.”
“That’s your problem, Celeste, you have no expectations. Why do you spend money to fatten his bank account if he doesn’t have time to answer your letters?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I should be back by ten thirty. I might stop for a banana split before coming home.”
Mitzi waved good-bye and went back to sorting through the papers she’d printed out. It certainly wasn’t much in the way of information but if Jake actually went to Spangler, Pennsylvania, he could ask questions, show off his charm. Few women could resist her nephew’s pleasing personality. Everyone who met Jake liked him. He was a guy’s guy, too.
Should she go over to Jake’s now or wait till morning? Never one to let grass grow under her feet, Mitzi slipped on a pair of sandals and beelined out the door before the animals got wind that she was going cruising.
As she whizzed down the highway, Mitzi wondered where the day had gone. Hours these days just seemed to fly by. She’d read an article that said as a person grew older, time went faster. Maybe the writer of that particular article wasn’t an idiot after all.
Jake was standing in the open doorway of his apartment when his aunt screeched to a stop in her SUV. He wondered where her fancy Jaguar was. She’d probably burned off the rubber on the tires. She was up to something. He could tell. And, she had a sheaf of papers in her hand. He felt a quiver of apprehension as he waited for Mitzi to climb the steps. Sometimes she reminded him of a gazelle.
“I come bearing news, darlin’. I have here in my hand the possible location of one Trinity Henderson. Now that you’re unemployed, I was wondering if you might be interested in checking this out. Of course, if you aren’t interested, I can always turn it over to an investigative agency. If you decide to check it out yourself, no one needs to know. I know how to keep my lips zipped.”
Jake stared at his aunt as he reached for the papers. “You want me to do this, don’t you, Mitzi? Do you mind telling me why?”
Mitzi turned on her heel. “What a silly question. Trinity was Harold’s daughter. Does that answer your question?”
“Guess so. I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“That works for me, darlin’.”
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