P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 01 - Heavy Mental by P.J. Morse

expression. She seemed ready to escort me out, so I figured I needed to start digging. I’d finished my first glass of water, and it was time to swoon again. I attempted to stand and then flopped back down on the couch. “Oh, oh! I am so sorry! May I have another glass of water? I think it’s helping.”
    Rosa said, “I’ll get you something sweet.” Once I heard Rosa’s heavy feet padding toward the back, I sprang from the sofa and started digging in between the cushions. I didn’t feel a necklace. I didn’t feel anything, which surprised me. Even my mother’s sofas had a cracker crumb or two.
    I then tiptoed toward the back and crossed the hall to a study, which was barely more human than the living room other than a stiff leather loveseat and a desk. I spotted a trashcan by the desk and immediately started filling the pockets of my cardigan with whatever was inside. Then I pulled the Crackberry from my purse and started snapping the papers on the desk with the built-in camera.
    Hearing voices from down the hall, I crept forward to find out what was going on. I presumed the maids were talking in the kitchen about the strange red-haired lady passed out in their boss’s home. However, the Spanish conversation was about Sabrina, the boss herself:
    “Ay! She’s crazy! She’s leaving them everywhere!” one maid said.
    Rosa sounded almost hysterical. “I didn’t do this. I don’t touch her jewelry!”
    The head maid in charge hissed, “ She did this. He says she does this. Wash it, and put it back!”
    I decided to take a risk. I leaned against the wall, set Crackberry at a wide angle, turned off the flash, and held the camera out just barely out into the kitchen doorway. I ever so gently snapped a photo. Then another. To cover up any possible noises and to see what was causing the problem myself, I tucked the slim Crackberry into one of my shirt pockets and made myself known. Stumbling into the kitchen, I announced, “Rosa! I had to tell you I’m feeling better. Please don’t go to any trouble … Oh!”
    I froze at the sight. Rosa was standing at a granite-covered kitchen island. Before her was a glass with a little yellow powder in it. In her right hand was a jar of lemonade mix that she may have intended to prepare for me. In her other hand was a fistful of glittering necklace, covered with the powder. “Katherine!” Rosa exclaimed.
    My jaw dropped, and this time I wasn’t acting. “Are those diamonds?” I stepped up close to the counter to see if that was in fact the missing necklace. From what I could tell, it wasn’t. The pattern wasn’t right, and I thought I saw sapphires.
    The head maid in charge stood between me and Rosa, blocking the view of the necklace completely. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” she said.
    I ignored her and tried to look over her shoulder at Rosa. “How did that get in your lemonade?”
    Tears welled up in Rosa’s eyes. “Poor lady,” she said. “Poor lady lost her head.”
    The head maid in charge turned toward Rosa and shouted, “Stop crying, you cow! Put them back before we all get fired.” Then she said to me, “I don’t know what you are or why you’re here, but you’re going to have to go home now. Comprendes? ”
    I got the message loud and clear, but I told Rosa I’d never forget her kindness. The remaining maids tried to shove me toward the front door. I barely had time to get my cosmetics suitcase. As I walked toward a gardener, who was holding the front gate open, I heard the word “periodista” spat at me.
    I thought to myself, “ No, honey. I’m not a journalist. I’m worse.”
     

CHAPTER 13
    NOT TO BE HOSTILE
    A FTER RETURNING C HERRY 2000 TO South Park and getting out of my Fainting Cosmetics Queen costume, I fetched my own lawn chair from my apartment and joined Harold on the sidewalk.
    I turned on my Crackberry and looked at the photos I took that morning. I paused on the last, blurry shot of Rosa in the kitchen. The