by Kathy Krevat
“What is it?”
She took a deep breath. “He moved back in with his mom and he got a lawyer to take his case pro bono. He’s going to fight me for partial custody and then he’s going to make me pay child support.” Her voice broke at the end.
“Well, that’ll never happen,” I said. “What judge in his or her right mind would give that lunatic any amount of custody?”
She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You don’t know him. He’s going to charm the pants off his lawyer, and then charm a judge, and he’s going to get my baby.”
“No, he won’t,” I said. “I have the videotape of him losing his mind.”
“He’ll have some excuse that everyone will believe because he’s so pretty,” she said and then sat up straight. “But he’s not going to get my Zeke. Ever. I’ll kill him first.”
I looked around, making sure no one could hear her. “Zoey, don’t ever say that out loud again. And don’t do it either. What would happen to Zeke, or Meowio, if you were in jail?”
She smiled a little at my joke, but I wasn’t sure I got through to her.
“Did you do anything to make him go away?” I asked.
“I gave him five thousand dollars, all the money I had,” she said.
“Do you have proof of that?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It was all in cash.”
“Let’s wait for the lawyer to actually do something,” I said. “Or maybe he was making the whole thing up and he was just talking big.”
In the meantime, I had to find a time to let Quincy know what was going on. He had his own problems, but he’d be awfully mad if he found out what was happening to Zoey from someone else. And he was a smart guy. He might have a solution.
* * * *
Elliott refused to go to the Sunnyside Library Family Movie Night with me since according to him, it was for babies. I thought about going alone, but that was not only weird but pretty pathetic. And it would definitely make it harder to get Mad Dad to talk to me.
I texted Joss, including the real reason I wanted to go, and he called me right away. “Really, you’re using me and my daughter to track down a suspect?”
“Oh man, I didn’t think about it that way,” I said, completely embarrassed. “You’re right, forget it. Sorry!”
I was about to hang up when he said, “I’m kidding. What can happen at a library movie night?”
Trouble looked up from my lap and meowed as if she had heard him. You don’t want to know.
She purred while I read over what Mad Dad, or Fred Hugo, had posted on Benson’s Facebook page. He’d publicly admitted to obtaining a copy of his daughter’s recommendation letter from Benson, by requesting a paper copy in a sealed envelope for a college that requested them by paper. I didn’t know much about applying to college, but I couldn’t imagine any college taking paper these days. Mr. Hugo had read the letter and complained that it wasn’t good enough, that it contained so-called “code” words like “hardworking,” which inferred that his daughter wasn’t that talented.
What ensued was a debate on how illegal that was and how inappropriate it was to be discussing this on Benson’s Facebook page. I couldn’t imagine that any of it helped his daughter get into college, never mind the teen humiliation she must have suffered from his public display. Benson never commented on the post, which must have taken some restraint, or he just didn’t care.
Joss knocked on the door and we drove over to the library. The rain had stopped, but more was expected over the weekend. The amount that had fallen was only enough to promote more growth, which just gave any fires more fuel. We needed a thorough soaking.
Movie nights at the Sunnyside Library were way more popular than I expected. The parking lot was packed so Joss dropped Kai and me off at the door.
Kai held my hand and skipped as we went inside. “I already taught Percy how to give me a high five,” she said. “Well, he doesn’t do it every time, but it’s only been a couple of days. Pegasus hardly does it at all.”
“Cool,” I said, impressed. “What other tricks are you going to teach them?”
“I’m going to teach them to come when I call them, and dance in a circle, and jump over each other.” She used her hands to demonstrate and nodded as if it was definite.
Then she told me she loved the movie, Mulan. The whole night was made even better for her when she saw some friends from school. She excitedly joined their group sitting on the floor in front of the big screen in the center of the library.
Joss and I sat with the row of parents in real chairs at the back of the room. I had printed out the photo of Fred Hugo, aka Mad Dad, and discreetly opened it to compare it to some of the dads in attendance. It took longer than I expected to find him because the lights were dimmed in the library and his photo was pretty outdated. I finally figured out who he was when he lumbered to his feet and set off for the men’s room.
“Go in there and talk to him,” I hissed at Joss.
He stared at me like I was nuts. “I’m sure that happens all the time in the women’s room, but men don’t talk to strangers in the men’s room.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. You stay here. I’m going to catch him when he comes out.” On the way, I realized that my normal tactic, flirting, wasn’t such a good idea at family movie night.
I’d have to be straightforward. “Is that you, Fred?” I asked when he exited the bathroom, waving his hands in the air to dry them off.
He looked at me, trying to remember if he knew me. “I’m Colbie. Someone told me that your daughter used to be taught by Benson Tadworth. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
His face turned bright red at the sound of Benson’s name. “Thank you, but she hasn’t been with him for a while.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I heard he could be a real pain.”
“Yeah,” he said. His hands tightened into fists.
“I overheard him with a student just a couple of weeks ago,” I said. “He was terribly abusive.”
“Um, I should get back to my family,” he said.
I grasped at straws. “Do you know any other teachers who don’t use such awful methods?”
“No,” he said, his voice firm. “What was your name again?”
“Colbie.”
“Well, Colbie,” he said, “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but Benson Tadworth was a horrible human being and he—”
It was pretty clear that he wanted to say, “…deserved what he got.” Then he thought better of it.
“I have to get back to my family,” he said and turned around.
I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, but maybe Norma should make sure he had a rock solid alibi.
* * * *
The Little Italy Farmers’ Market on Saturday extended for blocks close to downtown San Diego. The local neighborhood was filled with restaurants and art galleries, and from some streets we could see San Diego Bay.
I covered my tables and set up all the products before getting Trouble out of her cat carrier and putting the chef’s hat on her. She held court on her chair and drew her normal crowd.
Today I was on my own because Elliott was at rehearsal. The weather felt perfect—crisp and cool—but the highly anticipated rain was scheduled to move in later. I planned to use that as an excuse to close up early so that I could attend Benson’s memorial.
I saw the nutrition pyramid scheme guy before he saw me, strolling down the aisle of booths. Today, he looked more casual, wearing a green golf shirt that he’d tucked into khaki pants. His dark hair was standing up in the back, as if he hadn’t bothered to get his cowlick under control.
I gathered all of my patience, reminding myself that he was most likely here as a potential new customer and wouldn’t be trying to push me into his business.
“Fancy meeting you here,” D
rake called out with a short donkey laugh.
“Welcome to my booth.” I hoped my Vanna White hand gesture made up for my stiff smile.
He stared at Trouble for a minute. “Wow. That’s a real cat.”
“That’s Trouble, my taste tester and the inspiration behind Meowio Batali.”
Trouble stared at him as if wondering why he wasn’t petting her.
“Cool hat.” He picked up a can of my Chicken Soufflé. “Just like on the can. That’s awesome branding, man. Who can forget that?”
“Thanks,” I said.
“So what makes this better for my cat?” He turned it around to read the ingredients.
I went into my spiel and he nodded, listening intently. Then he completely changed the subject. “How much do you pay for this booth? Maybe I should rent one and sell my stuff here.”
“Um,” I said. “There’s an info booth out front that can help you with that.” I pointed in the general direction of one of the entrances to the market.
“Cool,” he said. “So what should I buy for my cat?”
He bought a sampler pack and seemed ready to ask another question, but instead he said, “Thanks! I’ll be back next week if Dijon likes it.”
“Cute name,” I said, relieved that he wasn’t starting his own sales pitch. “Good luck.”
He melted into the crowd and I heard Kai’s voice. “There she is!” I turned to see Joss arrive along with Kai. She was holding a hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream. A tiny bit had landed on the sleeve of her red jacket.
“Wow!” I said. “I’m so lucky to get to see you guys twice in one weekend.”
“Yes,” she said, matter of fact about the compliment. “My mom’s taking pictures of the goats for Instagram.” She used a plastic spoon to push whipped cream into her mouth.
I raised my eyebrows at Joss. “Isn’t that nice?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yep.” His voice was tight. “It seems that baby goats are hot right now and Gemma thinks she can make some money with that.”
I had no idea how people made money on Instagram, but then, my account was handled by Elliott and one of Quincy’s public relations folks.
“Mom put them in pajamas today!” Kai said, as if she couldn’t believe it. “They looked so cute.”
“Baby goats in pajamas?” I kept my tone light. “I might even look at those pictures.”
“Good,” Kai said. “’Cause she needs lots of followers.”
“Don’t we all,” I said. That was so not happening.
Kai moved over to pet Trouble, who arched her back and meowed. It’s about time you pay attention to me.
“Did you leave because Gemma was there?” I asked Joss when Kai was out of earshot.
“How could you tell?” His voice was sarcastic. “She’s hashtagging my farm, saying it’ll help my brand. She’s driving me nuts.”
I don’t know what got into me, but I had to say it. “Lani thinks Gemma wants to get back together with you.” I held my breath.
“What?” He stared at me like I’d grown another head. “No way.”
“Really?” I said. “This whole goat Instagram thing is pretty convenient.”
He thought about it for a minute and then shook his head. “Impossible. She’s dating some rich Canadian guy. Besides, I wouldn’t take her back in a million years. She’s the mother of my child but she’s”—he cut himself off—“not a nice person.”
I tried not to let the relief show in my face. “So, how long do you have to be away from home?”
He looked at his phone. “She just sent a text that she’s done, so I guess it’s safe now.”
“Thanks for the nice surprise,” I said.
“I do have the best surprises,” he said, with a suggestive smile.
“Promise?” I asked. Then Kai came back over, sipping the last of her hot cocoa. “Will I see you at bowling?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said.
“Will Elliott be there?” Kai asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “He wouldn’t miss it either.”
They walked away and I watched them weave through the crowd. Saturday crowds were usually more mellow than during the week, taking their time to explore what was available in the different booths.
I turned around and scanned the crowd coming down the hill and noticed one person not moving. He was staring right at me.
It was Red.
Chapter 10
I fumbled bringing my phone out of my back pocket, dropping it on the table, and knocking over a stack of Seafood Surprise before turning on the camera app. By the time I looked back at Red, he was gone.
That was scary. Even surrounded by people, I was nervous.
I’d already been planning on packing up early so I could make Benson’s memorial in time, so I tried to convince myself that a little earlier would be okay. Red was probably looking for Zoey, but he was such a bully that maybe me leaving early would make him feel good. That thought forced me to stay another hour, but I never saw Red again.
Funerals were often a great source of clues, but Benson’s was so small, that I didn’t know what I’d be able to find out. It was held in the Sunnyside Funeral Home and a local pastor greeted everyone as we entered the room where the service would be held.
According to Benson’s obituary, his mother was his only living relative. She’d driven down from Orange County and sat in the front row, so distraught that there was no way I could approach her.
Losing a child had to be the most terrible thing that could happen to a parent. My heart clenched every time she cried through the short service. She had to have been supportive of her son. I saw what Yollie did to help Steven. I couldn’t imagine anyone achieving what Benson did without his parent’s backing.
I was surprised that Norma wasn’t there, but a young man sat in the back, paying attention to everyone with the intentness of a police officer. He was sure to report back to her.
I’d kind of expected Opal Volker to be there, but Steven had seen her only one time. Maybe their relationship wasn’t very serious.
Steven attended with Yollie, along with several other teens and their parents. I assumed they were Benson’s students. Steven seemed sad but he had the presence of mind to speak quietly to Benson’s mother. She gripped his hand tightly, and then pointed to some scrapes and smiled. I made a point of looking at the other students’ hands. They all had Band-Aids and scars.
Yollie came to stand by me during the reception in a side room. “This is a little sad,” she whispered. “I expected a lot more people.”
“Do you think this will help Steven and the others get, I don’t know, closure?”
“I hope so,” she said. He was standing with other students, all in some level of formal dress that made them seem older, yet they fidgeted like normal teens.
“Do they all have scars on their hands?” I asked.
Yollie nodded. “Yeah, from making reeds.”
Talk about suffering for your art.
* * * *
The promised rain held off until we were on our way to the bowling alley. Then the skies opened with a vengeance. I insisted on dropping my dad and Elliott off at the door. I still remembered the scary time when my dad could barely breathe because of pneumonia, and didn’t want him to suffer like that again.
Piper would’ve told me that he couldn’t catch pneumonia from getting wet, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
My dad had snagged Joss for his bowling league months before, and Elliott and I were happy to tag along. Kai usually joined us on her dad’s weekends. The rest of the team was around the same age as my dad, and many of them were from Boston like him. His Boston accent became more pronounced as the evening wore on, and the empty beer mugs piled up.
Elliott and I often played our own games, but tonight we were cont
ent to watch and eat junk food with Kai. My dad plopped down on the round couch in the viewing area at the end of the lane. “How was rehearsal?” he asked Elliott.
I’d already gotten the rundown and didn’t pay much attention to his answer.
“That’s a lot of work you guys are doing, all for one weekend,” my dad said.
I was about to explain the reason for the short schedule, but Elliott handled it.
“Yeah,” Elliott said. “Thanksgiving is early this year and that’s the only time that was available at the high school. Plus, according to the drama teacher, it’s the whole process that’s important, not just the number of shows.”
“Really?” my dad asked.
“No.” Elliott laughed and shook his head. “But we’re doing five shows in four days, so that’ll be cool.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Kai said. “Especially the elephants!” She lifted her arms up above her head as far as she could reach. “My mom’s coming to see it too!”
“That’s great,” I said, and Elliott turned his head fast to look at me. “Really,” I said with a stiff smile, and he laughed.
“Hey, do you know what ‘goat’ stands for,” Kai asked. “Greatest. Of. All. Time!”
“Very cool,” I said. “I think you’re the G.O.A.T.”
She giggled. “That’s what my dad says!” She threw herself back on the couch.
My dad pulled some money out of his pocket. “You kids want to play video games?”
“Sure,” Elliott said, happily taking the money. They ran to the small enclosed video section, arguing on the way about which game they’d play.
My dad looked over his shoulder and saw that Joss was out of earshot too. “You know you gotta watch out for her, right?” he said. “That Gemma.”
“Lani thinks so,” I said. “But I asked Joss and he doesn’t even like her.”
My dad’s eyes widened. “You asked him?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly as if admitting something wrong. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just thought your generation played more games than that.”
