Wonderland Burlesque: January 2024

The ride over to city hall was relatively quiet, save for the conversation she had with her mother regarding why there was a town hall - which they had just been kicked out of - and a city hall in a place as small as St. Petersburg. Missy mumbled something vague about the Oswigs’s fancy legacy buildings and the fact that the town was coming to grips with needing more practical municipal-type structures in order to keep in step with modern times. To tell the truth, she wasn’t sure at all, but that made the most sense.

And sense was something sorely needed, given the day.

She was distracted, busy thinking about all the information she’d now never have access to due to their sudden, compelled exit from the Oswig Museum. She wondered if that odd little man would ever allow her back in. He didn’t strike her as the forgive and forget type.

As the trio pulled into the large gravel lot near the Sheriff’s Department, her mind shifted back to the present. Practical was one word to describe the building which stood before them. Boring and utilitarian also sprung to mind. The low, flat-brick affair stationed between the Sheriff’s Department and the Fire Department shared those building’s same characterless features. It was a bit jarring, given the opulent architectural overstatement of the mammoth town hall which they’d just left.

Warily, Missy got out of the car, her hesitancy unnoticed by her travel companions who made a beeline for the set of chrome-framed glass doors embossed with gold lettering which read ‘City Hall’. She couldn’t help it; on the drive over, doubt had crept in. She’d begun to question why they were bothering with all this. But then, as she took the first wide cement step up to the building’s front door, the thought of Grandma Jean brought clarity to their mission - this was to honor her, this was to give her grandmother peace, a peace which seemingly had evaded her during her lifetime.

Once inside, the bright fluorescent lighting did nothing to soften the bland exterior. It was obvious that these three buildings had been built quickly and without much thought, so unlike a town which seemed to pride itself on its appearance. Artistic considerations and comfort were obviously cast aside when it came to this culdesac and it’s buildings, structures which appeared to be little more than necessary concessions to modern life. A sturdy blonde counter dissected the room, which had all the charm of a free clinic or a DMV office, the latter of which the building may very well have been. The counter served to separate the ‘those who want’ from the ‘those who have’ efficiently and effectively. One certainly knew one’s place.

The place itself seemed barren, with its rows of empty chrome and vinyl seating, the only life, a series of dated public service posters which adorned the sickly gleaming tiled walls.

Her aunt had already dinged the shiny silver bell which sat on the countertop like a bubbled beacon, its sharp metallic sound still resounding shrilly in the hard-surfaced room. From behind the counter a young woman, a few years Missy’s junior, quickly appeared, having come through a heavy blonde door on the other side. The wall behind the counter was also dotted with mundane public service posters, inclucing one demanding people wishing service to take a number, which seemed ludicrous considering the place was one tumbleweed short of a ghost town.

Missy marveled at the cold glint of the wall’s porcelain-coated block tile. What color was that? The pale yellow again brought to mind a medical clinic, which caused her to dislike the place even more.

“Hiya! What can I do for you, today?”

The woman was perky. Bright-eyed. A petite girl with medium-length reddish-brown hair, she was dressed casually, in a practical bulky sweatshirt, probably worn in order to keep warm, for the space did not offer much in the way of warmth.

As Jeanette began to explain that they were looking for some information regarding a specific date, Missy decided the girl was cute, in a collegiate way. In fact, Missy guessed she had probably only recently graduated, for she possessed the timid, but enthusiastic manner of someone working their first real job. When Missy stepped up to the counter to stand beside her aunt, the girl’s head did a rapid pivot and her eyes grew wide.

Interrupting Jeanette, who took it in stride, the girl gasped before saying, “Wait a minute. I know you…”

Missy’s heart raced as her impulse to fight or take flight kicked in. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

The girl chuckled, her index finger wagging back and forth, pointing at both Missy and Jeanette. “You’re those women who solved the Arneson case a couple years back.” Her gaze then pivoted in Jeanette’s direction, as her finger followed with a thrust for emphasis, “You’re her aunt, aren’t you? I have a thing for faces.”

Jeanette’s mouth clenched shut. Then, without looking at Missy, she tried to sidestep the issue, in a tiny careful voice she admitted, “Yep. That’s us. But that’s ancient history. Today, we’re here on other business…”

“Oh, that sounds exciting. And I’m grateful. So little happens here. I mean, in this building. I’ve only been in this job for…” she counted on her fingers, mouthing the months silently, “…eight months. And, while I’m grateful to be in charge - I mean, this is what I went to school for - I’m sort of used to things being a bit busier, know what I mean?”

Relieved, both Missy and Jeanette were nodding in agreement, when Dorie’s voice vollied forth from behind them, “You’re educated? Why on earth would you move here?”

As the heads of her travel companions turned to give their tag-a-long guest a dirty look, the girl behind the counter laughed. “Oh, tell me about it. I wish I’d known. But, no, no… I really didn’t have much of a choice, my boyfriend’s from here and we’re set to get married in December, so it was move here, get a job and get settled or… well, come to think of it, there was no other alternative.” With a shrug of her shoulders, she added, “What’s a girl to do? Am I right?”

“Engaged!” Dorie pushed in between her day trip buddies and gestured toward the young lady, her enameled nails all aflutter. “Oh, let’s see, let’s see… the ring! Let me see that ring!”

Missy and Jeanette exchanged a sour glance before forcing smiles on their faces and feigning interest. Of course Dorie was fixated on only the most tangible materialistic gains to be made when it came to any relationship. They watched as the girl on the other side of the counter dutifully offered up her right hand to this total stranger with the unconditional surrender of one who’d become used to doing what was demanded, as Dorie enthusiastically latched onto it as if she’d known the girl her whole life.

In a preemptive effort to dampen expectations, the girl said, “It’s not very big.”

Dorie gave a dismissive laugh. “Oh, believe me, size isn’t everything. What’s your name, darling?”

“Darlene. Darlene Bell. From Minneapolis. Graduated from the U of M.”

“It has some very pretty points. That’s in your favor.”

Missy glanced her mother’s way, as if seeing a stranger. Who was this person, all giddy and charming the locals?

Dorie concluded, “It’s lovely, though you probably could have done better.”

“Dorie!” It was Jeanette’s turn to intercede. “Why? Why would you…?” Words failed. She was at a loss, so egregious was Dorie’s social overstep, the remainder of her reprimand drifted off into the ether.

“No, it’s okay,” acquiesced the blushing Darlene. “I get what she’s saying. My friends from school said basically the same thing. But it is sweet… and perfect for me, just like Peter.”

Peter?

Miss felt the room expand and contract in a single moment. As the blood rushed through her body, she felt her head expand before contracting, leaving her feeling lightheaded. Suddenly, she had the need to sit down, but her legs lacked the strength to find their way to a chair. “Peter?”

Her aunt’s eyes grew big. She immediately moved to Missy’s side, her hand grabbing her niece’s upper arm as if to steady or prevent her from falling.

“Yes!” crowed Darlene, her clueless face triumphant. “We met a few months ago. It’s sort of a rushed thing, I guess. I mean, we don’t know one another all that well, but then... time is of the essence, I guess.”

Dorie, oblivious to her daughter’s distress, pressed, “And why is that, dear?”

“Well…” Darlene’s chin dipped as her eyes found the floor. “You see, we’re… I’m expecting.” She corrected herself, “We’re… expecting!”

Missy’s face turned to stone.

Jeanette, sensing the change, let go of her niece's upper arm and assumed a guarded posture. Eyes still glued on her niece, she was ready to provide whatever was needed.

Her mind racing, Missy tried to find an even keel, something to keep her afloat. This was news. This was big… this was… quite something, quite unexpected. Of all the crappy government buildings she could have walked into, she chose this one.

Dorie, for once, sensing a change in the room, said nothing as a silence engulfed the room.

Darlene’s face was frozen, open-mouthed, like the catch of the day waiting for some type of acknowledgement. To fill the void, without taking her eyes off Missy, Jeanette murmured, offering up a less than heartfelt congratulation. Dorie’s eyes were now fixed on her daughter, as well, though she failed to take a step towards her. She, too, appeared to be at a loss. Realizing that something was needed, Dorie did a one-eighty, plastering a broad smile on her face, before turning to their new acquaintance and beaming a tad too brightly, “Why that’s marvelous. How wonderful for you both. When are you due? Why, you’re not showing at all!”

Darlene, catching wind of the energy in the room, though not it’s cause, cautiously offered, “Yes. Thank you. We’re both… we’re both very excited.” The girl appeared to shrink before their eyes, like a balloon leaking air.

Suddenly, it dawned on Missy that Darlene had misread their reaction, taking it not as shock, but disapproval. Not wishing to be thought prudish or judgemental, she snapped to, offering up a more conventional reaction. “Good for you. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”Feeling slightly unsteady, she she more or less fell forward, catching the lip of the counter, her face a mask of false cheer. “I’m sure you’ll both be very happy. I can’t think of a better place to raise a child.”

Pleased, Darlene scoffed at the idea, “Ha! I sure can, but this is the path I’ve been given. Or, at least, that’s what Peter keeps telling me. So, yeah, I guess I’m just going to go with it.”

Missy’s face flushed. Reigning in her true feelings, she said, “Well, he’s a good man. And since he’s lived here all his life, I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”

But something in her words caught, as Darlene looked at Missy quizzically. Her head cocked, she asked, somewhat warily, “Oh. Do you know Peter?”

The question posed, it suddenly occurred to Missy that, though she did indeed know the man they were talking about, she obviously did not truly know him at all. Attempting to downplay it, she answered, “Yes. I guess. I mean… everyone knows ‘Pete Repeat’, am I right?” She laughed and Jeanette, knowing what she meant, and Dorie, not knowing, joined in.

But Darlene wasn’t quite done. As if fearful of the answer, she asked, “We’re you close?”

Close? Do moments count? For it seemed, not only to Missy, but even to the most casual of observers that moments were all she and Peter had shared. But what of electricity? Attraction. Chemistry. Do they count?

Missy, not meeting Darlene’s eyes, looked down at the Formica countertop in front of her. “No.” She felt something catch in her throat. “No. Obviously, not at all.”

Feeling the need to rescue, and get on with it, Jeanette rushed forward, “Darlene, we’re very happy for you. We wish you… and Peter, the best of luck. Now, about those documents we’re looking for?”

“Sure…” Darlene’s eyes remained on Missy, as if she had more questions to ask but, fearful of the answers, was only to happy to answer the call of duty. She reluctantly snapped to. “Sure, what’s the date?”

“October 31, 1931.”

“Okay.” The girl turned, as if to move to the door which led to the backroom where, most likely, the records were kept, before wheeling about. “Wait a minute…” Her shoulders fell, as she assumed a posture of defeat. “That’s not… really?” Darlene let out a laugh. “That’s not going to work. Oh, I hate to tell you this, but... you’re at the wrong building.”

“What?”

Darlene resumed her place behind the counter. “You need to go to back to the town hall. My records don’t start until 1952.”

The three women looked at one another, as Darlene, bemused, continued, “Isn’t that strange? But then so many things in this town are. It has something to do with a new charter that was drafted back then, or something like that. I know they also wanted to keep the guy who used to do what I do at the town hall employed, so they gave him the old stuff and I have everything since the new charter. Oh! And good luck with him!”

Jeanette’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Darlene bowed her head, glancing from side to side before assuming the stance of one about to gossip, “He’s very odd, if you know what I mean. And not very friendly. His name is Arthur - and don’t make the mistake of calling him Art! I’ve only talked to him a few times, so, maybe he was just having a bad day or something, but,” her tone turned hushed, as she spoke emphatically, “he is not very friendly.”

Missy and Jeanette looked to one another. Unfriendly? It wasn’t like that was something they weren’t used to when it came to St. Petersburg.

“You know what,” brightened Darlene. “I’m going to give him a call and let him know you’re on your way. He doesn’t like surprises.” She moved toward the institutional tan landline phone attached to the wall behind her.

“Oh, that’s kind of you. But unnecessary.” said Missy. And then, on a hunch she added. “But, if you do, could you do me a favor? Don’t mention what we’re looking for… the date, I mean.”

“But he could have it all ready for you.”

Missy looked at Jeanette before continuing, “Yes, well… If he’s as unfriendly as you say he is, let’s not piss him off before we get there by making him do a bunch of work. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it, but thanks.”

“If you’re sure…”

Jeanette, catching Missy’s drift, cheerfully chimed, “Yep, yep… we’re sure. We know how folks are here. You have to charm ‘em first. Don’t worry, we got this.”

“Oh!” smiled Dorie. “This will be fun.” She looked at Darlene, “Believe you me, I know how to charm.”

The girl behind the counter looked at her uncomprehendingly, so Dorie continued, “You could say I graduated from the charm school of life.”

Stiffening, Jeanette’s mouth grew small and tight, “More like the school of hard knocks.”

The sisters locked eyes before Jeanette continued, “It’s okay, Dorie. Let Missy and I do the the talking. I don’t know that the citizens of St. Petersburg are all that worthy of your… ‘charm’. “ Without waiting for a response, Jeanette thanked Darlene for her time, congratulating her once again on her upcoming nuptials and child. “You take care of yourself.”

Missy had a sudden thought which took voice and flew out of her mouth, "Wait a minute. What about Hedda?"

"Hedda?" Darlene's grimaced Obviously her impression of the woman matched their own. "Hedda Brendt? Who sits behind the counter at Sam's gas station?"

"Yes. We wanted to look up a little information on her."

Darlene made a sucking sound, clenching her teeth together while protruding her lower jaw. “Aww, gee… that’s… that’s problematic. I mean, she’s a living resident of the town. I could get in a lot of trouble. They’ve warned me to not let reporters have just any old document.”

“But we’re not reporters.”

“Yeah. But… well, you can see how helping the two of you might get me in trouble. I’m sorry. But I just can’t. Can’t risk it."

"But it's your job." Missy looked to Jeanette for back up, but her aunt's focus seemed transfixed on the floor."

"Yes. Yes, it is. My job. And one that I'd like to keep."

Jeanette, her eyes still glued to the floor filled the silence that followed. "No, we... we understand. We don't want to get you in trouble or anything. Thanks, anyway."

"Wait." Darlene's face brightened. "You know what you could try? The newspaper. Next to the post office, downtown? Try to talk to Dustin. He's young and might help you find what you're looking for. Garret, the editor? He won't be as helpful. He'll tell you 'this ain't no public library!' Which is another place you might want to try. They have all that stuff on micro fiche."

Now it was Missy and Jeanette's turn to grimace.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Pain in the butt, but they're kind of old-fashioned and haven't discovered the wonders of electronic documents yet. I mean, in their defense? They are a little understaffed. Mercey, the librarian? She can only do so much."

Missy sorted through the possibilities and their limited time table as Darlene spoke. This was a lot to get done, especially if they had to be back to the cities by 7:00 pm.

"Thanks for the suggestions. Greatly appreciate your time. We won't take up anymore of it." Jeanette seemed ready to take action. "Let's go, Missy. And let this young lady get back to... whatever it is she was doing."

“Have a blessed life,” added Dorie.

Moving away from the counter, Jeanette glared at her sister as if she were from another planet. Then, taking Missy by the arm, she steered her niece, who was still working her way through all they needed to accomplish, toward the door. “Come on, my dear. The clock is ticking.” Adding, under her breath as they raced toward the glass doors, “That girl is going to be on the phone before we reach the car.”

“Bye!” sang Dorie, as she scurried to catch up.

Once safely on the other side of the doors, Missy and Jeanette shot toward the car like arrows to a bullseye. Before sliding into their respective seats, they looked at one another over the car’s roof.

“Buck up, Missy. Consider it a bullet dodged.”

"What?"

"Peter. He's not worth it."

The two women locked eyes. Missy gave her aunt a quick nod of the head. She still felt numb, but, as time was indeed of the essence, she could process what just happened fully at another time. And would have to, for Jeanette was already in the car, buckled up. Her aunt reached over and tapped the horn in the hopes of hurrying Dorie who was straggling behind, busy looking for something in her little clutch purse.

Dorie waved them off, “Hang on, Sloopy. Hang on. Mama’s got a headache.” Falling into the back seat, she asked. “Either of you ladies have some Tylenol or something. All this soap opera drama has my head pounding.”

“Hmm,” murmured Jeanette. “A good head pounding is something that might just do you some good. Knock some sense into you.”

Dorie demurred, “I don’t have to be smart, hon. I’m pretty.”

“Pretty annoying.”

Having had enough, Missy looked from woman to woman as she spat, “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you two sound? What? Are you both suddenly thirteen years old? Knock it off… we need to go find all these people. And I could do without all this sibling snarkiness.”

“She started it.”

It was Dorie.

“I don’t care who started it,” Missy continued. “It needs to stop.” She put the car into drive and spun out of the gravel drive.

In the silence that followed, all the doubt which Missy had successfully put in its place crept back in.

Peg Powler, Peg Powler. Why were they doing this? For Grandma Jean.

Then why was it so hard? What was it about this town? It seemed to thrive on mystifying them. They just needed to find a way in; a means of making sense of it all.

Just the tiniest of openings…