Like Mother, Like Daughter
J Michael Blue

"Why did you come, Mama? I've got nothing worth stealing." 
Louise Leonard raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in a look of exaggerated surprise. "I came to see my darling daughter. Wasn't that a nice maternal thing for me to do?"
"And why have you been asking all those questions about Homer Ashcroft, Jr.? Your taste in men runs more gamey than that."
Louise shrugged her slender shoulders. "It's not unusual for a woman to inquire about one of her old beaus."
"I don't think Junior qualifies as one of your old beaus. The Ashcrofts live in a world you and I don't even get to visit."
"Well, I used to blow in his ear and milk his little wienie in the back seat of his daddy's big car. That ought to count for something."
"Doesn't sound like much of a romance to me. What's your big interest in him now?"
"I'm curious, that's all. From what I hear he's the big man in this burg. Took his family's pile and doubled it. Did you know he's planning a move into politics?"
Was she really related to this woman? Laura Pankowsky stood at the sink, spoon feeding coffee grounds to her reluctant garbage disposal, while her mother sat at the kitchen table, dismembering a fruit filled coffee cake and lining up the tiny wedges of balled bread like bon-bons on the edge of her plate. As usual on a weekday morning, Laura wore her waitress uniform, a pair of white cotton socks, and a sturdy pair of walking shoes. Her mother sported Marabou trimmed, fuck-me-slippers, and a see through peignoir that could only have come from a store that catered to hookers.
"You told that woman you work with that you were born in prison. I hate hearing you tell people that. The looks they give you when you say it."
"Why shouldn't I say it, Mama? It's not what I put on job applications, but it's the truth."
"You were born in Ripley County Hospital in South Jerusalem, Indiana."
Laura turned toward her mother. "Only because the women's prison didn't have a delivery room. They waited until your contractions started, stuck an IV in your arm, and sent you into town under guard. Didn't change a thing. You still did a two year stretch for kiting checks, and I got to be born a jailhouse baby."
Her plate now overflowed with balls of pastry, so Louise captured one small piece between two blade-like red fingernails, and placed it on the tip of her tongue. "Oh my God," she said, as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. "I love blueberries almost as much as I love hot, sweaty, sex."
"The blueberries are safer. You'll never get the crabs from blueberries," Laura said.
"I'd murder the man who gave me those damn things if I knew for certain who to kill."
Laura checked the time. Another half-hour and she'd have to leave for work. She looked around. Her usually orderly house looked like a dumping ground for laundry and magazines. She had to establish a set of housekeeping rules with her new guests before they turned her home into a trash heap. "I want to know why you're here, and how long you intend to stay," she said, coming back to her original question. "We haven't lived together since my fifteenth birthday, and this is the first time I've seen or heard from you in five years."
"You're upset because I brought Ronnie."
"I don't like having that lowlife in my house, that's for sure. From what he told me, he's running from the law."
"Those grand theft warrants are bogus."
"Of course. Guys like Ronnie are always being persecuted."
"And I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to have a strong, handsome, horny, young man chasing after me every day. My lord girl, he's ten years younger than I am, and he can't keep his hands off of me, crabs or no crabs."
"He's fifteen years younger than you are, and I don't think personal health and hygiene are high on Ronnie's priority list. Let's see what happens when your cash runs out."
"What a terrible thing to say." Louise touched her hair and rearranged her gown over her cleavage. "Besides, we're going to have plenty of money from now on. We have plans."
"A week from now, I want him out. You can stay longer if you need to, but this is not a halfway house for unapprehended felons.
Louise put another cake morsel onto her tongue. "A week is too soon, but two weeks from now, no one will be living here with you except that mangy old cat. As soon as Ronnie and I complete our business, we'll be moving on. We're going to Mexico."
"So you said."
"We'll be married in Puerto Vallerte, just like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton."
"And I'll bet your marriage will be every bit as successful as theirs."
"Who's lucky?" Ronnie posed shirtless in the doorway, the top two buttons of his jeans unfastened, his bare feet spread wide.
Louise stretched back over the top of her chair, her well augmented breasts lifted skyward, her head tipped so she could see him. "Laura says I'm lucky," she said. "Don't you think I'm lucky?"
"I think you're hot," He stepped forward and licked her throat. "You've got a killer body and you could suck chrome off a trailer hitch."
Laura turned back toward the sink. "Lovely," she said.
"Hey don't knock it," Ronnie challenged. "I'll bet your mama could teach you plenty about pleasing a man."
"My mama's already taught me enough to last me a lifetime."
*
Laura worked both the lunch and dinner crowd at The White House Restaurant, hard hats and steel-toed boots in the middle of the day, and solitary diners forking food around their newspapers at night. She got a break in mid-afternoon that she used for resting her feet, but on the sixth day of their stay, she decided to sacrifice comfort time in an effort to re-establish order in her life.
As she left the house, she told Ronnie she wanted to talk to him alone, and that he should meet her at The White House about quarter till three. The smirk he gave her made her want to throw up on his shoes.
"I knew you'd come sniffing," he said. "It's time we got better acquainted."
"Just be there," she said.
He arrived wearing a pair of stovepipe black jeans, a skin hugging red muscle shirt with the sleeves cut off at the shoulders, and a smartass attitude. His hair hung over his collar in oiled corkscrews, and the black onyx stud he wore in his right ear matched the grime on his neck. He strutted through the empty restaurant like a stud horse on his way to the breeding pen, and slid into the booth at the back where Laura sat waiting.
"Hey, Hot Stuff! We've got to get you out of them workin' woman clothes. I've got a feeling there's stuff you're hiding under there that's good enough to eat."
"I wouldn't let you put your mouth on me if you brushed your teeth with battery acid."
He reached across the table and scooped up a handful of cold French fries, she'd left on her luncheon plate. "If you don't want to tussle, why'd you ask me to sneak down here to meet you?"
"Sneaking was your idea. I wanted to find out what you and Mama are planning to do."
He leaned back, planting a grease spot high on the wall of the booth. "You tricked me. Got me to lie to Louise for nothing."
"You tricked yourself, asshole, which is no doubt your standard M.O. Now, what are you planning?"
Ronnie shrugged, and looked around the restaurant as though he was thinking of buying it. "Watch your mouth with me, girlie, or I'll empty out your teeth and fill up your jaws with something big and angry. What we do is none of your business."
"Well, that's another place where you're wrong. You're staying in my house, and whatever trouble you cause is going to wash all over me. Anything you do here is my business."
Charlie White, the owner of the restaurant, came out of the kitchen and passed their booth on his way to the front door. When he spotted Ronnie, he slowed and turned. "I'm going out for a while, Laura. Will you be all right?"
She nodded. "I'll be fine."
Charlie smiled, but didn't look like Laura had set his mind at ease. He came back to the booth and gave Ronnie a hard stare. "Lazlo and Edith are in the kitchen if you need them. I'll be back in about an hour."
"What's his problem?" Ronnie asked, after the restaurant owner left them.
"Nothing. He has a first rate scumbag detector, and you put him over the red line. He used to be a cop."
"And you work for him. Ain't that a bitch."
"He introduced me to the guy I'm dating."
"You're going out with a cop?"
"What of it?"
"Does Louise know about this?"
"Why should she? She never gets my permission before she fills her life with losers."
"Well, this cop ain't been around since we've been here, so there can't be much going on."
"He's with the state police. Works cold cases so he's out of town a lot."
"Well, keep him away from Louise and me. All we need is to have some highway mountie poking his nose under our sheets."
"Then you'd better head out in a hurry. He's due back in a few days."
Ronnie turned and scowled in the direction he'd seen Charlie go out. "Hard to believe," he said. "Louise's daughter dating a damn cop."
"What are you planning to do to Homer Ashcroft?" Laura asked. "Is it anything I should warn him about?"
Ronnie snapped his head around. "What do you mean, warn him? You stay away from Homer Ashcroft!"
"Why should I? My mother licks her lips every time she says his name, and you talk about him like he owes you money."
"Homer Ashcroft don't need your help and we don't either."
"Are you setting him up for something?"
"Let's just say he and Louise are taking a stroll down memory lane."
Laura shook her head. "She's going to try to get him into bed somewhere, isn't she."
Ronnie grabbed another stack of cold French fries and crammed them into his mouth. "She's already managed that. Wasn't nothin' to it. Old Homer ain't had a decent lay since he owned all of his hair and a lot less of his belly, and you know Louise, she could give a dead man a hard one if she put her mind to it."
"And once she has his clothes off, you're going to rush in and catch them in the act. Probably play the outraged husband."
"Something like that, although I might be a son or a younger brother. We haven't worked out the details."
"I see."
"We're going to take pictures. Sort of capture the Kodak moment so we can set up some kind of annuity arrangement with Homer. I might even bring along some special clothes and toys for he and Louise to try out while I'm going click, click. I could be standing there holding a gun in one hand and a camera in the other, but I think it'll work."
"You'll never get away with an old scam like that. Homer Ashcroft isn't stupid."
Maybe not, but randy as he is, he's real concerned about keeping things hush-hush. He and Louise got together once already, and he was as paranoid as David Koresh about anybody finding out. Says he has a reputation to worry about."
"That's more than some others can claim."
"It's surprising what you can get away with if you find the right situation and you know which buttons to push. Stay out of this one, missy. Your mama and me know exactly what we're doing."

"I never would have believed it. You turned your own flesh and blood over to the cops. Sent that hard-nosed butthead storming right into my room!" Louise Leonard stood in the front doorway of her daughter's house, an overnight bag in her hand and fire in her eyes. Her make-up had faded and her hair looked as though she'd slept on it sideways.
Laura lowered her newspaper and turned her recliner away from the television. "If I had really turned you over to the cops, you wouldn't be standing here. You'd be sitting in the can alongside your stupid boyfriend. Frank came after you on his own without telling his boss or anybody else. He took a hell of a chance as a favor to me. I asked him to stop you from doing what you were doing, and then let you go."
"The damned Nazi busted in on us, knocked Ronnie on the head and made me stand stark naked with my hands in the air. Do you have any idea how ugly you look when you stand that way?"
"What did you expect him to do, wait until you and Homer finished your workout and then escort you all to the parking lot?"
"Than he shoved Ronnie and me into the bathroom while he gave Ashcroft time to get dressed and sneak out of the hotel. Damn cops are nothing but a bunch of butt kissers for anybody that's got money. You should of heard your mealy mouthed boyfriend. 'I think you'll want to get of here, Mr. Ashcroft.. You should probably take the back stairs, Mr. Ashcroft.' What bullshit!"
"Consider yourself lucky."
"And what about Ronnie? Is he lucky?"
"I don't know. How lucky does he feel? He's going back home to face those grand theft warrants."
Louise dropped her bag, covered her face with both hands and began sobbing. "I can't believe this. I can't. You've ruined everything for me!"
Laura shook her head. "That's what I like about you, Mama. No matter what happens, you think life is a movie and it's all about you."
"What will I do without Ronnie?" she wailed. "I'm all alone again."
Laura reached for a coffee mug on the table beside her. "Replacing Ronnie ought to take you about fifteen minutes in the bar of your choice. Bums like him are everywhere and you have some kind of internal magnet that draws them to you."
"That cop said I have to leave town by tomorrow."
"Sounds about right to me. If you're here another week, you'll get something else started and maybe next time, I won't know about it until it crashes around me."
Apparently convinced that her outburst wasn't doing any good, Louise turned off the sobs. Her eyes and cheeks were dry. "All right," she said. "I'll pack my stuff and leave after breakfast. I've never lived with a snitch in my life and I don't want to start now."
"Fair enough."
The two women stared at each other in the soft light from a solitary floor lamp. In her terry cloth robe and her slipper-socks, Laura had the comfort and the commanding position of landlord. Louise looked tired, frazzled, and frustrated. After a moment of tight-lipped silence, she stomped away into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
So much for good-bye. Laura waited for a count of ten and then went into the kitchen to use her phone. She dialed the State Police number, and when a dispatcher answered, said, "Sergeant Frank Waters, please."
He came on the line within seconds. "Waters."
"Hi Baby. Can you talk?"
"Yeah, for a couple of minutes. It's quiet here now."
"Did you get Ronnie settled in?"
"He's unhappy, but I've told him that if he makes me unhappy, I'll forget about protecting Homer and we'll have some new charges to load on his back. What about Louise?"
"She's sulking and packing."
"Good."
"Did you get the pictures?"
"You bet. I especially liked the one of Homer wearing the dog collar and the leather harness while your mother sat on his face."
"Oh boy. When are you going to give him the bad news?"
"Tomorrow. I told him as he went out the door that I thought we had things to discuss."
"Then he must know he's still on the hot seat."
"He probably suspects, but I know he'd rather have me as the keeper of his secrets than old Ronnie."
"And we're still going to ask him for a thousand a week?"
"In perpetuity, but we won't be asking, we'll be telling. He's one scared little fat boy."
"Okay. Well, I'd better let you go. I don't want Louise walking in on this conversation. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Right. And remember, Sweetheart. The things you've learned at your mother's knee are about to put us in tall cotton. You can afford to be nice to her as you boot her out the door."

J. Michael Blue turned to writing crime and mystery fiction four years ago. Since then his work has appeared in Blue Murder Magazine <http://www.bluemurder.com>, The Belletrist Review, Byline, The Timber Creek Review, The Concho River Review, Blue Fiction Magazine, The Flying Island, Papyrus, and The Unknown Writer, among others. A dozen of his short stories have won awards. Justified Crimes is his first novel, just out from Blue Murder Press. More information is available on his website at jmblue.com.