by R C Barnes
Officer Lopez leaned in and spoke in a confidential tone. “Narcotics believes they will have Mackey in custody soon, but in the meantime, please watch yourself. We’re stretching things here, allowing you and your sister to go back to the house, especially with your mother’s condition, and …” she allowed her words to trail off. Echo was becoming attentive to the conversation. Officer Lopez looked straight into my eyes. “Stay in contact. This is not a game.”
“Okay, I. GOT. IT.” I said. Perhaps, I was too snippy.
Echo and I were taken home. This ended my vigil at the hospital, so I took a shower. Echo kept insisting the police lady said she could have a kitten. Not remembering how she could have reached that conclusion, I dodged the subject by telling her it was mom’s decision, and she would have to wait until our mother was home.
Ollie was happy to see us both, and Dusty came by at dinner to celebrate the return of Echo. We didn’t call it that, but it was on everyone’s mind. I had Ollie take a picture of me hugging Echo on my phone, and I sent it to the last number I had for Luther. A few minutes later, a red heart was messaged back. I was glad my mother wouldn’t know Todd had stolen Echo. Things were shaky, but things would only get better. We could move forward and heal.
Dusty was still pale from the shock of recent events. In less than a day, she had learned her business had been used to shelter a drug operation, and she might have lost her best friend. I could see Dusty was trying to pull herself together. There were indications she had gotten some sleep. Her face was scrubbed, and her hair combed. Giant palm trees dangled as earrings under the brim of her cowboy hat.
“The studio is in shambles,” she said. “The police scoured the place looking for the backpack.”
“It wouldn’t be there,” I said. “She moved it. That’s why he beat her. But I can’t figure out where she could have taken it.”
“Did she bring it here to the house?”
“No,” I replied. “Todd was here.”
“The car?” Dusty guessed.
Todd has it.”
“Well, I know one place she went that morning,” Dusty ventured. “She walked to the bank and made the deposit from Thursday’s event.”
My head snapped up. “Was it a substantial deposit?” I asked. I had a vision of my mother dumping rolls of cash wadded up in rubber bands at the teller’s window and telling them to count it.
“No,” Dusty answered. “I told the police and showed them the deposit receipt she placed in the appointment book.”
“Why’d she put it there?”
“I don’t know, but that’s where I found it.”
I thought about my mother’s movements. Clearly, she had gone back to get the backpack after the Somerville event. The bag may have had drugs in it, but it would have predominately contained cash. She went to the bank in the morning but didn’t deposit the money from the backpack there. That would have raised suspicion, and I’m sure the police were checking that. Besides, Todd believed he still had access to the bag. He took Echo because my mother told him she hid it, but she wouldn’t tell him where.
If she had driven somewhere far to hide the backpack, we wouldn’t know because Todd had her car. I wasn’t sure if checking mileage was really a way that the police could determine where people traveled. Many times, in police shows, a parking ticket or a camera at an intersection reveals where a person has been. I seriously doubted if the questions revolving around my mother would be solved by a parking ticket. There just wasn’t any way to figure out what she had been thinking or where she had gone.
Before Dusty left, I told her I would come by after school on Tuesday to help with the clean-up. Maybe with the two of us, we would be able to get clients back in the door by Thursday. Dusty expressed her gratitude and gave me an enormous hug. “She’ll be okay. Your mom will be okay.” She whispered in my ear. I thanked her, but I believe that those words were more to comfort Dusty than myself.
That evening as I lay in my bed, I could hear distant sirens as police cars answered an emergency call. Officer Lopez had said the vehicle positioned at our house would not leave even if there were a burglary or a fire down the street. It was an unmarked vehicle, but evident to anyone who knows what to look for. I’ve gotten to the point where I know what to look for.
Earlier in the evening, I had tossed Echo into the bath with lots of suds and scrubbed her until she was raw and squeaky. As I conditioned and rinsed her hair, I thought I was possibly eliminating potential clues for the forensic teams if they needed it. However, the police hadn’t shown much interest in trying to pinpoint where Echo had been for the last few days. Whoever the woman was, she had probably been fed a string of lies explaining why Todd had my sister.
Smelling like strawberries, Echo lay in bed next to me sound asleep. As I had combed her hair out and braided it to dry, she told me she was going to name her kitten Smithers. I smiled and said, that was a good choice. Last week the name of the kitten was going to be Pepper, and the week before that, the selected name was Georgie. With Todd no longer a member of the household, maybe Echo could finally get her kitten. I rubbed my sister’s small blanketed body and allowed my mind to drift and think about orange kittens and where a litter box would go.
My phone buzzed. A text message had come in. I glanced at the screen, hoping the sender was Luther. The number was blocked, but the message was clear. It read, “where’s my shit?” A few seconds later, another message appeared.
“Don’t make me take your sister again.”
II
PURSUE MAXINE
IT’S A GAME
I was lying on my bed, gazing out the window and watching a little bird dance around from branch to branch on the tree that shaded my room. My mind was wandering, in the same way, the bird was flitting and chirping. Hop, chirp, bob head down, bob head up, hop, chirp, ruffle feathers. That bird was me - hopping here and there, not knowing where it should perch or where it should rest its head.
My mother never made it to surgery. She was brought out of the induced coma, but then her vitals went wobbly. She had a devastating stroke on Sunday night. They believed she was conscious, but she was locked inside an unresponsive body. This is what I hadn’t wanted to share with Officer Lopez when she asked about Terry’s condition. Things did not look good.
Echo was home, but I knew there was a threat hanging over her. Todd had made it clear he could get to my sister. I was antsy to take action, but I didn’t know what I could possibly do. I shared Todd’s text messages to Officer Lopez, who insisted on contacting Detective Kline. The police were searching hard for Todd. Annika had been arrested but released when it was clear she didn’t know anything outside of the honest employment she had received from my mother. (Lucky her) Nick Ryder had been questioned while he was in jail. Duane Rodriguez had disappeared along with Todd.
While I spoke with Officer Lopez, we went over the details of my mother’s last two days in Cosmic Hearts. Dusty claimed on Wednesday, my mother was there when she arrived. My mother worked steadily and placed calls. Dusty had gotten them salads for lunch. Thursday before the Somerville ceremony, my mother handled a full day’s worth of bookings. Chinese food had been ordered. Terry didn’t leave the place. Friday, Dusty entered Cosmic Hearts and found my mother beaten on the floor. The studio had been tossed. Chinese food containers with their remaining contents were crushed along with the spilled ink and fallen equipment.
Officer Lopez mentioned the delivery guy from the Chinese kitchen had been roughed up the night before. He was jumped on his way home by two assailants who repeatedly demanded he hand over the bag the tattoo lady had given him. His beating stopped when he fell unconscious. But the attackers took the keys to his residence and searched the place. Luckily his girlfriend hadn’t been home, or she would have been beaten as well.
I took a deep breath and exhaled while Officer Lopez told me about the beaten delivery guy. “This is a sign of desperation, Bess,” she said. “We all know the bag and its contents
were in the studio on Thursday night, so this guy is at his wit’s end - grasping for straws. All known associates are being watched. He’s going to surface soon, and then we will have him.” Once again, Officer Lopez tried to talk me into leaving the house, but I didn’t trust the system. I didn’t want to be hiding. I needed to be near the hospital and my friends. I needed to be able to see my mother.
“Just catch him, will you,” I said.
Ollie blared opera arias throughout the house. Despite the fact the refrigerator was filled with casseroles and food brought by members of Joanie’s Witness congregation, he was baking and baking and baking. I don’t think he had turned the oven off for the last three days. Ollie was in a frenzy of grief. In a month, there will be twenty more pounds on his frame. And then everyone will be forced to do diet cleanses with him.
Thoughts like this meant I believed we would rally on without Terry Wynters at the helm. But could we? I took Echo to school this morning, aware of the unmarked police car following slowly behind us as we walked. I didn’t feel like going to school myself, so I returned home.
I looked at the screen on my phone and went into messages. I scrolled through my multiple attempts to contact my mother on Thursday night after the ceremony, and she didn’t come home. I landed on Wednesday, which was the last time we had actually communicated. She had messaged I should come by the studio after school on Thursday. I had responded I couldn’t. I was getting Echo and then studying with Rueben. She messaged back I needed to pick something up. I had replied she should bring it home.
As my eyes flitted around the numerous items in my room, random thoughts and memories danced in my head. My brain needed something to do. Finally, my eyes rested on my book bag, propped up near the door. There it sat, waiting for me to grab it on the way out. The lost book bag which started it all. My green ribbon was still threaded through the handles. It was then I remembered there was something inside from my mother that I hadn’t looked at.
I quickly opened my bag and snatched out the folded paper. My name was scrawled across the front, but it wasn’t my mother’s hand. The EMT had probably written it for her. There were brown finger marks on the paper. The EMT’s gloves were bloody from working on my mother, and the mess had transferred to the paper as he wrote what my mother said. I unfolded the paper and frowned at what I saw. The words “Pursue Maxine” were written in black ink on the page. They were arranged strangely as “pursue” was written from left to right, but the name Maxine was written vertically. The words intersected and shared the letter “e” at their ends.
Pursue Maxine
Was this a puzzle? The first thing that crossed my mind was this was some type of crossword puzzle. I turned the paper around and looked at my name and childhood nickname on the other side. There were no instructions. Nothing else for me to extract information from.
I stared at the paper. Was my mother leaving me a clue to the whereabouts of the stash of drugs? That had to be it. Had she hidden them somewhere in the shop? Somewhere in the house?
Earlier, I needed to feel like I had something to do - to take action. Now I had something to do. It appeared I had a puzzle to solve. I grabbed my jacket and called out for Ollie. I needed a ride to the hospital.
I figured I could get information from the EMT regarding the message he had written for my mother. But first I had to let him know I wanted to speak to him. Ollie drove me to the hospital in silence. His face grey and hard. The softness had left his cheeks. I realized I was wrong in thinking he would gain weight from consuming all the heavy carbs and baked goods in the refrigerator. He wasn’t eating at all. Our family tragedy was his family tragedy.
I reached over and placed my hand on his arm as he gripped the steering wheel. We drove for a few blocks, and then Ollie had to reach down and pull a tissue from the side pocket of the door in the truck’s cab. Tears were streaming down his face.
If it weren’t for us, he would be pathetic and alone. That’s what he said to me, time and time again. He had his sister out in Idaho, but her husband had made it clear Ollie could visit but never stay. My mother’s generosity was a saving grace for him, and he was fiercely protective of her. Going behind her back and taking Echo to visit Luther must have been so difficult for him to do. He probably felt like he was betraying her. He was. It must be how the subjects in a kingdom feel when they go against the wishes of their king. Kings are human, and mistakes are made. Are people supposed to ignore the error and pretend it is not a mistake at all? When does the king (or queen as the case may be) get called on their poor judgment? Is it always treason when you challenge the queen’s will?
We reached the hospital, and Ollie let me out near the entrance while he pulled around to the parking garage for visitors. I headed for the nurses’ station that functioned as a hub for the floor where my mother rested. The woman at the monitor was not the one who had brought over the EMT. I looked at the chart over her head and read the names posted there. None of them stood out, but then I wasn’t positive I had caught the woman’s name anyway. During the time I spent at the hospital, I had seen dozens of nurses, and I couldn’t link any of them to names.
“Yes, may I help you?” the nurse at the desk had bright green eyes, and she had a colorful headband pulling back her spiky dark hair.
“My mother is Theresa Winters in room 304,” I said. The woman gave me the sad eyes tinged with pity. I was beginning to see those eyes on everyone’s face.
“I recognize you. It’s a little early for visiting hours for minors, dear.” the nurse smiled. “But if you wish, I am sure it is alright for you to poke your head in for a bit and look in on her. There hasn’t been any change I’m afraid.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll do that. I was hoping to get the name of the nurse working here on Saturday morning. She was a tall woman with long blond hair.”
“Could she have had it clipped up high on her head?” the front desk nurse asked, demonstrating a high ponytail with her hands.
“Yes, that’s her. Is she here now? I really need to talk to her.”
“Her name is Carol. She’s probably on break now.” The nurse flipped through a few charts and checked something on the monitor. “Yes, she should be back on the floor in fifteen minutes. If you’d like, I can send her to your mother’s room.”
I thanked the nurse and went to stand at my mother’s bedside. There was no change in her condition except every time I went in to see her, she looked just a little bit smaller. It was like she was shrinking into the bed covers. I stood there for a while, just staring at this miniature woman. Her face was a swollen purple bruise. One eye was now covered with gauze (I didn’t know why), and the red hair poking out from the bandages was damp with perspiration. Without the vibrant energy that made her roar larger than life, she really was an itty-bitty thing. My concentration was so intense I didn’t notice Carol enter the room.
“Hi,” she said. “It’s Bess, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m sorry her condition hasn’t improved.”
“Remember the EMT that brought me a letter the other day?” I asked. “Do you think I could speak to him?”
“Roger, yes. I’ll find him. I can send a message and ask him to come up to the room when he is done with his shift.”
I thanked Carol, and she turned to leave, but then a thought flashed in my mind.
“Have there been any other visitors for my mother?” I asked.
“Outside of the police? No.”
“Detective Kline has been here?”
“Yes, they were hoping to get more information from her, but as you can see her…” The nurse smoothed down the linens around my mother’s torso. “Her condition hasn’t changed. Outside of the police, only family is allowed.”
“I’m her only family that can come in. My sister is six, and I don’t think she should see our mother looking…not yet, anyway.” In addition to her face being swollen, there were black and purple bruises shaped like fingerprints on h
er neck. I didn’t have to have it spelled out to me; I knew what those neck bruises meant. Looking at my mother, I only felt deep sorrow. The simmering rage I was used to tapping into was gone. I looked over at nurse Carol who was gazing down at my mother with what could only be described as love and concern.
“Is there any way of allowing others to see her?” I asked. “I’m sure her business partner and best friend would like to be here, and then there’s….” My thoughts drifted because I was about to say Luther or Ollie, and I wasn’t sure how to characterize them to make the nurse understand these men were family. The important thing, however, is that Todd had not been in. It was probably the best news I had heard since the attack. Todd couldn’t snake his way into my mother’s room.
“I can compile a list of people who have permission to visit,” I stated. “I know I’m considered a kid, but there are people who I’d like to be able to sit with her, read to her, play music, stuff like that.”
“That sounds lovely,” Carol responded. She looked at me and hesitated. I could see she was thinking something and then decided to share what was nagging at her brain. “You know, I hadn’t thought anything about it last night, but now that we are talking, there was someone who came into her room last evening while I was here. He was a big fellow, black, and holding a cap in his hands. He entered the room, distressed. And while staring at your mother, his hand flew up to his mouth. He saw me then and backed away. Apologizing that he had the wrong room.”
Luther.
Carol continued. “Even though he said he had the wrong room, it seemed like he knew your mother. I understand she is well known in the area.”
