“Kim, what’s going on?” Tracy asked. She sensed an excited anticipation in his voice.
“I’ll explain later,” Kim said.
“Where at the mall?” Tracy asked with resignation. “It’s a big place.”
“Connolly Drugs,” Kim said. “Inside the store.”
“When?” Tracy asked.
“I’m on my way,” Kim said. “Get there as soon as you can.”
“It will take me more than a half hour,” Tracy said. “And you know they close at six tonight.”
“I know,” Kim said. “That’s plenty of time.”
Tracy hung up the phone. She wondered if she was hurting Kim more than she was helping him by having let him avoid participating in the funeral arrangements. But she didn’t have much time to dwell on it just then.
Despite their bitter divorce, thinking about Kim brought out the mother in Tracy. She found herself wondering when Kim had eaten last. She knew she wasn’t hungry, but guessed it would be best if they both had something. So before leaving for the mall, Tracy threw some food into a bag and carried it out to the car.
On the way to the mall, Tracy decided that she would insist that Kim participate in finalizing the plans for Becky’s service. It would be best for both of them.
Since it was late afternoon on a cold, rainy Sunday, there was no traffic, and Tracy made it to the mall faster than she estimated. Even the parking area was relatively empty. It was the first time Tracy had ever been able to get a spot within a few steps of the main entrance.
Inside, the mall was more crowded than she expected given the number of cars outside. Just beyond the door she was confronted by a group of senior citizens bearing down on her while doing their version of power-walking. Tracy had to step into the lip of a shop for a moment to avoid being trampled. Walking on to the center of the mall, she assiduously avoided looking at the skating rink for fear of the memories it would invariably evoke.
Connolly Drugs was as busy as ever, particularly at the prescription counter where there were upwards of twenty people waiting. Tracy made a rapid trip around the store but didn’t see Kim. On a slower transit, she located him in the hair-products section. He was carrying a box containing a pair of hair clippers and a bag from one of the mall’s trendy clothing stores.
“Ah, Tracy,” Kim said. “Just in time. I want you to help me pick out a hair rinse. I’ve decided to go blond.”
Tracy lifted her hands onto her hips and regarded her former husband with bewilderment. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kim said. He was preoccupied looking at the panoply of hair products.
“What do you mean you want to go blond?” Tracy asked.
“Just what I said,” Kim asserted. “And not just dirty blond. I want to be very blond.”
“Kim, this is crazy,” Tracy said. “You have to know it. And if you don’t, I’m even more worried.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Kim said. “I’m not decompensating if that’s what you think. All I want to do is disguise myself. I’m going undercover.”
Tracy reached out and gabbed Kim by the shoulder to steady him. She leaned forward, suddenly transfixed by his earlobe. “What’s this?” she questioned. “You’re wearing an earring!”
“I’m pleased you noticed,” Kim said. “I had a little time before you got here, so I got an earring. I thought it was sufficiently out of character. I also got a leather outfit.” He held up the shopping bag.
“What are the hair clippers for?” Tracy asked.
“Those are for you to give me a haircut,” Kim said.
“I’ve never cut anyone’s hair,” Tracy said. “You know that.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Kim said with a smile. “I’m aiming for a skinhead look.”
“This is bizarre,” Tracy complained.
“The more bizarre, the better,” Kim said. “I don’t want to be recognized.”
“Why?” Tracy asked.
“Because I visited Kelly Anderson,” Kim said. “And she refuses to lend us her investigative journalistic skills until I supply her with some incontrovertible proof.”
“Proof of what?” Tracy asked.