Chapter 2

 

Like children hurrying without giving the appearance of running, each couple made their way to the cars on the tree-lined street. Eight door slams later, a smile crossed my face as I eased into the front seat. I was excited.

Claudia started the car, revved the engine in a gentle, prodding way, and asked, “Okay, where am I off to?”

“Oh, you just think these two old broads would just tell us where to go, simple as that? Two professors—psychology and comm arts?” I rolled my eyes. “Trust me: They will mess with us.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So look at the clue then.”

I opened the sealed envelope with an assertive, confident rip. We were unsealing our fate.

“‘Here it is where we shall State,’” I read. “‘The food of Zeus’ little nymph’! Ah shit, Greek mythology! Ah shit, Claudia! Do you know this stuff? I think I slept through it in school.”

“Let me see the paper,” she said.

She irked me: I was a scatterbrained, overreacting child—and she would need to be my Ritalin.

She held the sheet of paper under the rearview mirror, and we both stared at it.

 

here it is where we shall State:
the food for zeus’ little nymph—the big fat cow;
sacred to aphrodite—bird’s foot ’round her head;
the lures of monarch lagoon, but not the tackle

pay the toll to pass the gate:
a right, a left, another left, right—so close now;
right over there—by that strange little rental shed;
take it correctly or a foot in each shackle

 

“Okay, smarty pants, what the hell does that mean?” I demanded.

Surprisingly, she said nothing. She set the paper down between the front seats, smoothed the hair on top her head, and then stretched her back like a cat. After another moment, she finally said, “Well, this is stupid, all of us sitting here like idiots who haven’t a clue. Let’s just speed away and let them all think that we’ve figured it out.”

With that little plan in motion, she backed the car up a few feet, pulled into the driveway across the street, and then reversed. With a conservative screech of the tires, she headed us down the street, away from the old Victorian, away from the other six sets of eyes that pored over the exasperating piece of paper.

Ginny and Kris, I imagined, were standing in the front window, checking their watches, laughing at their little experiments. Screw them! We were going to win this thing!

Claudia drove without a word until we were in the heart of downtown. Mainstreet, America, buzzed with Saturday morning ritual. She pulled the car into a parking spot. “Run into Timmer’s Book & Bean and get us some fuel,” she instructed. “I’ll try to decipher this thing.”

I grabbed some of the money we kept stashed in the ashtray that she forbade me to use. As I opened the door to make the run, she furthered her instruction, “Earl Grey, no sugar.”

“Oh really? I was going to get you a double froth latte, extra fat.”

“I thought they only made those for you,” she retorted, her own froth thick with sarcasm.

“They do, but, hey, I’m not selfish.” I smiled at her and began my mission.

When I returned several minutes later, she had set up shop at one of the outside tables. Most of them were unused, as early May mornings were not quite warm enough to suit most. She had a pen and was scrawling notes and underlining words.

“Are you just checking their syntax or do you have any ideas there?”

She uncapped her tea, took a cautious sip, and suggested that we take it line by line.

“‘Here it is where we shall State.’” I think that’s just an intro. ‘The food for Zeus’ little nymph—the big fat cow.’ That’s much harder,” she assessed. “Wasn’t the almighty god of thunder the original nymphomaniac?”

“Very funny, but yeah, he definitely had his share of women—mortal and otherwise. The big stud in the sky.”

“Okay, well, name some.”

“Calisto!” I yelled as though I had just spied bingo on a card. “She was turned into a bear. Oh, and Eurynome! With her he fathered the Muses—no—no, the Graces.”

“Any of them big and fat?”

“They probably all were. They went for voluptuous in those days, not emaciated.”

“Okay, well that helps. Let’s try the next line then. What is sacred to Aphrodite, and why would she have a bird’s foot around her head?”

“Around her head … um … probably a crown. She was the goddess of love and beauty … nature … flowers. Birds on the flowers? Argh!”

“Well, keep going then. Next line: lures … monarch lagoon … not tackle. So lures that aren’t fishing tackle.”

“Yes! You’ve got it!” I proclaimed. “Monarch Lagoon is a fishing hole at Mill Lake State Park, but that would mean fishing lures, not the exclusion of.”

“Maybe not. What’s the lure of Monarch Lagoon, Kate?”

“Well, nature, maybe, since we’ve got Aphrodite in the mix… But I still can’t figure the cow/woman.”

“Hey! ‘State’ is capitalized,” she announced triumphantly. “The only letter that’s capitalized.”

“So state is a proper noun … State
Park. But a cow?”

“Look.” She pointed to the paper. “Two bold letters in the line about Zeus. An O and an I, from food and little. Food little. Little food.”

“The State is starving us by taking all the fish!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it.” She rolled her eyes. “Think again, my little nymph.”

“Well, it seems to be certain that it’s Mill Lake, doesn’t it? Even more so if you have to pay a toll to get through the gate. You’ve got to have a state park sticker or a day-pass to get in. How about we head that way?” I suggested, lacking any better idea. “Maybe it will all make sense when we get there. No, wait! An I and an O plus Zeus! Io, the nymph is Io! His wife found out he was cheating with Io. He turned her into a heifer! A heifer! A cow!”

“Boy, he was a nice guy, huh? So is it Mill Lake or not?”

“Yeah, let’s try— Oh shit, don’t look, Claudia, but Alison and Lisa just drove by.” I said, lowering my head, trying to mould myself into the wrought-iron chair. “Cheaters!”

“And how does driving by constitute cheating?”

She laughed. She genuinely laughed, and in it, something carried itself to the core of me. Something that seemed vaguely familiar. Something that made me want to cry in remembrance. Instead, willful to maintain the lightening mood between us, I replied, “You write big. They were probably able to read every one of your notes as they drove by.”

“Did it cross your little mind that maybe they already figured it out and are heading back to Kris and Ginny’s?”

“Oh shit! No, it didn’t! Get in the car. Get in the car now!” I yelled. “And I’ll drive, since you seem to think that speed limits are laws.”

Against her better judgment, she slipped herself and all our stuff into the passenger side.

I revved the engine, far from conservatively, and declared, “Hang on, Earl!”

With that, she held her cup of tea in midair. The next leg of our mission kicked up its heel.

Soon, any semblance of city disappeared, and Rural, America, had its way with us. The roads became narrower. Trees became closer. The farm fields were dotted with tractors tilling the soil, making ready for the induction of seed.

“Cows,” I remarked, pointing to a grazing herd to the left of us.

“Quick, go ask them if they know Zeus.”

Eventually, the meandering road led us to an enormous wooden sign that read: Mill Lake State Park. I turned in the drive to find a large deserted parking lot. At the far end of the lot was a small toll booth-looking structure with the silhouette of someone inside. I slowly approached, lowering the window as I went. A large sign hung onto the side of the structure with a long list of Don’ts. Not “Do come in.” Not “Do have a good time.” Just don’ts. I hated don’ts. “Don’t camp without a permit. Don’t fish without a permit. Don’t leave the trails. Don’t interact with the wildlife. Don’t disturb the flora. Don’t bring firewood from more than 25 miles away.” What?

I paid the woman six dollars for a piece of paper that was to be wedged between the dashboard and the windshield. If the tag was not visible, we were told, we would get a stiff fine.

I drove slowly forward and told Claudia to call out the directions contained in the clue. After the correct combination of turns, a small blue shed sat before us. Fishing Equipment Rental: this sign read.

“I do believe we got it!” I declared.

“And what exactly is it?” she countered. “Are we supposed to bring back the whole place? Take a picture of it? What?”

“Well, how about we see what our competition does,” I said, pointing to Susan and Maggie who meandered the shoreline of Monarch Lagoon.

We watched them for several minutes as I stealthily tried to park the car. It was obvious they knew no more than we did. They were aimless.

“Look at the clue again, Claudia. What are we missing?”

“State … cow. Do we have a state cow?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. Maybe we have a state nymph, too.” Then a light seemed to go on in my head with a brightness that blinded. “We do have a state flower, though. Grab the map from the glovebox, and see what it says.”

She slid her legs long toward the footboard and splayed the glovebox. She foraged until her persistent hands liberated the map. As she worked to unfold the Rubik’s cube-like thing, I looked up to see whether Maggie and Susan appeared to be in the midst of an epiphany, but movement in the rearview mirror caught my attention instead. I glanced to see Laura and Holly parking and then swiftly exiting their vehicle. In unison with the slamming of doors, feet pounded the ground in a mad dash.

“Shit, Claudia! Laura and Holly know the answer. Follow them! Follow them like we know, too!”

Before I had even finished my directive, both of our doors flew open and we were in hot pursuit. Laura and Holly ran toward the lagoon, startling Maggie and Susan, who seemed to have the same idea: pretend to know.

Suddenly Laura stopped in her tracks, turned around, and stretched her arms wide. “We were here first,” she roared. “Holly, go get it. I’ll keep these goons at bay.”

“Not fair,” I screeched back at her. “We have every right to—” I shot Claudia a pleading look. A right to do what, Claudia?

As if a mind-reader, Laura
yelled, “A right to do what, Kate? Tell me what you have a right to do, and maybe then I’ll let you pass.”

“We have a right to do whatever you’re doing,” Claudia defended. Oh, that was brilliant.

With a quick left and then a quicker right, I faked out Laura’s moves, ran past her, and headed to where Holly had stopped. Before her was a neatly fenced-in area that held hundreds and hundreds of small purple flowers. Several butterflies, still groggy from the morning chill, flitted clumsily from flower to flower.

“Oh, aren’t they beautiful? Just beautiful!” Holly gushed, holding a palm to each cheek.

“Yes, they are!” I exaggerated, trying to keep her enthralled and off task. “Beautiful! Very beautiful, Holly. What are they called again?”

Instead of responding, she pointed to a small white wooden sign stuck into the earth. Bird’s-Foot Violet: that sign read.

“The state flower,” Claudia added, rather defeatedly, suddenly aware of what the quick glance at the state map had proffered. “One more minute and I would have had it!”

“Ah, but we have it now,” I told her, but as I prepared to belly flop over the fence, the mounting energy within me came to a jolting halt as Claudia grabbed hold of my shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled at her, but as I did so, I saw the seemingly slow-motion lunge of Maggie over the fence. She landed in the midst of the flowers, plucked a handful, and let out a triumphant “Got it!”

I moved anew to clear the fence, and yet again, I was held in place. “Why the hell are you stopping me?” I screamed. “Don’t you want to win this thing?”

“You can’t pick them! It’s against the law. You can’t pick them,” she bellowed like a cow/woman. “Didn’t you read the sign when we came in?”

“Oh, screw that! Maggie’s got one!” As I said that, I meant to look at Maggie to bolster my case, but instead, all I saw was a blur as she and Susan hauled ass back to the parking lot.

I twisted my body to force myself from Claudia’s grip, but she held me with a vengeance. Laura and Holly seemed to have forgotten the task at hand, and rather, they stood there watching the battle of wills.

“‘Take it correctly or a foot in each shackle,’ you goof! You can’t pick them! It’s against the law. Pick it and go to jail!” she wailed with self-righteousness.

“Well, what in blazes does ‘take it correctly’ mean?” I demanded, still trying to wriggle free.

“It means this,” Holly said, aiming her camera at the plot of violets and the two agitated butterflies.

I glared at them in a way that seemed literally to burn my eyes. They laughed and immediately began a quick sprint to the parking lot. Then my scowl turned. Claudia let go of me, smiled sheepishly, and tried to smooth out the bunch in my shirt where her fist had attached itself. Coldly, I asked, “Do you have the goddamn camera?”

“It’s in the car. I’ll go get it,” she uttered, and before I could arrange the crude mix of words in my mouth, she ran full force.

Her absence was short, but it gave me enough time to plant myself on the earth and breathe deeply a few times. She snapped the necessary picture, and then as if willing to take her life in her hands, she turned the camera on me. She snapped a picture of my crumpled, defeated being. She reached out her hand to me, smiled, and said, “Come on, my little shrinking violet.”

We sped back to the city. One might guess that Claudia would have exercised enough restraint to forego pointing out speed limit signs, but the lover of rules did so anyway.

By the time we reached Kris and Ginny’s, Laura was strutting around like some freaking egomaniac peacock, Holly was stroking Muse, and Maggie and Susan were arguing that they had won even though they had killed a plant and broken the law. Eventually, Susan put the poor, little plant in the front yard and took a picture of it.

“Time of death,” our cheeky detective pronounced, “eleven fifty-three AM.”

I was still grousing as Kris and Ginny approached us. Claudia removed the memory card from the camera and offered it in an outstretched hand.

“Good job, ladies,” Kris said. She took the little blue card from Claudia and then jotted down our time on the clipboard.

“Yeah, and thanks for not killing anything … or each other,” Ginny noted as her eyes went back and forth between the two of us and then stopped on me.

I took advantage of her focus. “Okay, ruthless one,” I said, grabbing Ginny by the front of her shirt. “What the hell does the cow/woman have to do with this?”

“Ah, you weren’t paying attention in my class, huh?” she challenged. “Zeus turned her into a heifer, which was admittedly cruel, but he also did one loving thing for her. Do you remember now?”

My stare assured her that I did not know.

“Okay, then, I’ll refresh your memory” she said, happy to drill it into me once more. “Zeus put her in a never-ending field of violets—a delicacy to cows. So although he banished her, she still knew that he loved her. Sometimes you have to look at what isn’t so obvious when you feel as though you’ve been banished.”

She waited for a response from me, but Kris seized the opportunity to push her way between us, envelope in hand. “Here’s your next clue, guys. Another one hundred points. Now go,” she said, handing the envelope to Claudia. “You’d do better to keep moving.”