by Kathy Krevat
“Marco mentioned that since you cleaned for him, you might know something that he, I don’t know, kept secret. Even from his friends.”
She was silent for so long that I thought we’d been cut off. “Hello?” I asked.
“He had a hiding place,” she said. “I saw him take money out of it, by accident, once. It’s under the floorboards in the dining room.”
“Yes, the police found that,” I said, disappointed. “Anything else?”
“No,” she said. “That’s all. But I still have the key. Should I give it to someone?”
* * * *
No way was I going to mess with Norma’s crime scene by getting the key from her and exploring the inside of Benson’s house, no matter how much I wanted to. Instead, I called Norma and gave her Fabiola’s phone number. I had a play to get ready for.
After I told Elliott and his friends to “break a leg,” they all headed backstage to join the rest of the cast to wait for the pizza to be delivered. My dad, Annie, Lani, Piper, Joss, Kai, and I ate at Pico’s. Pico said he had tickets for the Saturday matinee, and added, “And I hope my sons don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he yelled over his shoulder.
One of his sons rolled his eyes as he delivered a plate of plantains to Kai for dessert.
Then we headed over to the florist, picking up far too many bouquets for Elliott, and drove over to the high school with plenty of time to get our seats.
Middle school friends of the drama club had put down a red carpet and acted like paparazzi for the family members and friends arriving for the first night of The Lion King.
Richard joined us, sliding his flowers for Elliott under his seat and shaking hands with everyone. Norma and her daughter slid into their seats minutes before the middle school band warmed up and the curtain rose.
From the moment the first note soared out over the audience, to the gasps from the audience when they saw the parade of crazy-colored animals winding its way down the aisles, to the last chorus of young voices coming together for the rousing “Hakuna Matata” song before intermission, I was transfixed. When Elliott ran out on stage as Zazu, I grabbed my dad’s hand hard and tears came to my eyes. It happened at every one of his shows. Elliott was so happy to be on stage.
Richard came over to me in the lobby during intermission when Joss and Kai left to buy a drink. “I should probably tell you something,” he said.
“You made a big ol’ donation to the drama club to help pay for all this,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Elliott already gave me a hard time.”
“He did?” I asked. I’d decided to stay out of it, as Lani had suggested.
Richard shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “He’s worried that he’ll get roles because of the money, so he asked me not to do it anymore.”
Wow. I was worried about the perception, and Elliott was worried about it actually happening, that he’d get a role he didn’t deserve because of it. I knew he could do anything, so if he got a role, then he earned it.
“He’s a great kid, isn’t he?” Richard said.
“He’s pretty amazing up there on stage,” I said.
“Which one is the girl he likes?” he asked.
I blinked. “He told you he likes her?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “He was asking for advice.”
A sharp pain hit me in my chest and I turned away. “She’s on the crew so you won’t see her on stage.” My voice was tight but he didn’t seem to notice, busy watching the other parents in the lobby.
Norma came over while her daughter was talking to a friend, and Richard excused himself.
“Anything new?” I asked and immediately wished I hadn’t. It would be nice to have a murder-free evening.
She shook her head. “Still trying to track down Opal.”
The bell sounded for everyone to take their seats. The second half was as much fun as the first, even when the joints of one of the zebra costumes locked up, and the actor couldn’t get it to “run” across the stage.
The sound of the actors’ voices singing “The Circle of Life” sent chills down my spine, making me believe for a moment that all was good in the world. They were having so much fun providing their friends and family with this entertainment. Most of them wouldn’t go on to a life in theater, but they’d have these memories of fun and friendship working together for a common goal, to create something beautiful.
The African sun rose on stage, as Simba and Nala slowly climbed up Pride Rock and the animals bowed all together. Then Elliott made the Zazu puppet fly around the stage and the animals hailed their new king.
When the final note rang out, the audience came to its feet in a standing ovation, clapping and cheering and woo-hooing as the student actors took their bows with delighted smiles on their shining faces.
The middle school drama club’s tradition was to have the actors come out to the lobby in costume to talk to the children in the audience, but the most complex costumes stayed in the back.
Elliott had the Zazu puppet talking to a little girl when we reached him. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it,” he said in the parrot’s voice. “And now I have to return to the kingdom.”
She laughed and ran back to her family.
“I’ll be right back,” he told us after quick one-armed hugs.
We waited for him, watching the other actors greet their families and friends.
Piper pointed to an antelope with daisy spots. “You really outdid yourself with those costumes,” she said to Lani. “The giraffes were my favorite.”
Simba’s mom interrupted us to tell me what a great job Elliott did.
“You have a star there,” I told her.
Norma’s phone buzzed and her face changed when she read the screen. “Wonderful show,” she said, but her smile was strained. “I have to go.”
* * * *
Elliott had a hard time calming down after the show, but eventually he got ready for bed. I went in to say good night, followed by Trouble. He sat up to pet her when she jumped on the bed. “Mom?”
“Yes?” I held my breath.
“Can I ask you a question?” He watched Trouble circle around to arrange herself for sleeping.
“Anytime, kiddo.”
He paused for a moment and my heart hurt that he’d changed his mind. Then he spoke really fast, as if trying to get the words out before his brain told him not to. “How do you know if a girl likes you?” He kept his head down but his eyes flicked up to meet mine.
I sat down, smoothing out the Minecraft comforter. “That’s a very hard question, even for me, a girl.” I smiled. “But for most people, it’s pretty clear. It’s usually a good sign if she hangs out with you, and sits close to you when she has a chance, and laughs at your jokes, even when they’re stupid.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s all friend stuff,” he said. “How do you know if she likes you, likes you?”
“The only way to be sure is to tell her that you like her like her and ask if she likes you likes you back,” I said, hoping for the sake of his special heart that it was true.
He looked unsure.
“Are you talking about Sasha?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Well, from my point of view, you know, because I’m your totally unbiased mother, I think she does like you. But then, I also think she’d be crazy not to.”
“Right,” he said. “Her mom works backstage a lot and she seems to like me.”
“That’s also a good sign,” I said.
Trouble lifted her head. Scratch behind her ears and she’ll love you forever.
“She seems like a very nice, very smart girl who won’t hate you if I’m wrong,” I said. “Just go for it. Ask her.”
“Dad told me to buy her a gift.” He said it as i
f he wasn’t sure if it was good advice.
“Hmm,” I said. “That’s a thought. But it’s still not answering your question. A friend can buy another friend a present, right?”
He nodded and then gave a deep sigh. First love was always the hardest.
“It’ll be okay,” I said.
He held out his pinky. “Pinky swear?”
I grabbed his pinky with mine. “Pinky swear.” Please be true.
He slid down and pulled the covers around his shoulders.
“You know, I just had a thought,” I said. “You may want to wait until after the play is over. Because either way, that could be awkward.”
He blew out a breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime,” I said. “I’m a wealth of information about girls. And cat food. But not much else.”
He snorted and reached over to give me a hug.
I held on extra tight before letting go.
* * * *
Quincy called the next morning when I was sitting at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. The first cup of coffee didn’t do its job, and the coffee pot seemed too far away. I should’ve left it on the table. Or poured cream in it and used it for my mug.
“Good morning, Quincy,” I said.
“Are you sick?” he asked. “You sound awful.”
“Just tired. Opening night went late,” was all I said. I’d spent a couple of hours wondering if I’d given Elliott bad advice. What if I was completely wrong and Sasha never spoke to him again? What if he blamed me? Did I need to talk to him about consent? He was only twelve but what if he decided to do something stupid like kiss her, and she protested, and he got kicked out of school? My thoughts had chased themselves until I fell into a troubled sleep.
“How did it go?” he asked. “Was Elliott incredible as usual?”
“He did great.” The memory made me smile again. “He just loves all that, you know?”
“We have tickets for tonight,” he said. “Can’t wait. But I called about something else.”
Oh man. “Something else good or bad?” I asked.
“Good. Really good news,” he said. “Norma called. My yogi is finally able to speak, and he verified everything I told the police.”
“That’s awesome!” I said. Even though I knew the truth would come out, I felt a wave of relief.
I covered the phone and scowled over at Trouble. “I wait on you all the time. You should get me coffee once in a while.”
She licked a paw. Impossible. No opposable thumbs.
Quincy went on. “Norma said they’re releasing a statement this morning. This afternoon, I’m going to call Natural-LA Grocers and tell them they have two weeks to make the decision, or you’re going to send the proposal to their primary competitor.”
“Really?” I asked. “What if that makes them mad?”
“I think giving them a deadline is the right move,” he said. “But it’s totally up to you.”
He went on about a new marketing plan. “I have at least one reality show celebrity who’s willing to wear that T-shirt in front of the paparazzi.”
“The one with my logo that says ‘My cat eats better than I do’?” I asked with a laugh. His social media person came up with fun ideas like that all the time.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s catchy and the cameras will eat it up. She’s going to carry some of your food into her apartment. When the photos hit, we’ll blast them on Twitter.”
It was wonderful to have the real Quincy back.
“Okay,” I said. “Go ahead with your power move.” I bit my lip. At least I’d know their response sooner.
“Hey, maybe you should take a day off,” he suggested. “When was the last time you didn’t think about Meowio at all?”
“I can’t remember,” I said with a laugh.
“I’m only saying it because I took it easy this week and today I feel great,” he said.
That might have something to do with no longer being a murder suspect.
“You know, we should have a talk sometime about balance,” he added.
“We’ll see,” I said. “I’m going into the kitchen later since the whole drama club has an excused first period only, so I’m letting Elliott sleep in.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed for a bit,” he suggested. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we’re back on track.”
I could imagine him rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“And the other matter you helped me with the other day?” he said. “I can show you the progress when you get here.”
Ooh. He was talking in code about Little Red. “Can’t wait,” I said. “Hey, what are you going to do about that DA who had it in for you?”
“Oh he’ll get his,” Quincy said with a smile in his voice. “The next election will end much differently.”
When I got off the phone I saw a text from Jaxon, saying she had more information. I called her right away.
“I’ve been thinking about A&D and realized some other…stuff,” she said.
“Thanks so much for reaching out,” I said. People didn’t often follow up with me. I usually had to track them down and harass them until they gave in.
“Well, it seems like you’re someone who will, I don’t know, take action,” she said.
“I will,” I said.
“The first thing is the president, Ian, used cash a lot,” she said. “Normal people just don’t do that anymore. When he took us out to celebrate something, which believe me didn’t happen very often, he always paid cash. And the bookkeeper once told me that he even paid some of the company bills in cash.”
Norma had found hidden cash in Benson’s house and Fabiola had also seen it. “That’s weird.”
“And I don’t think I made it clear how nervous Ian got when this guy came around, like flop sweat nervous. One time a big BMW revved his engine near us, just like on the street, and I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He jumped back like the guy was going to shoot us or something.”
I held my breath. “What happened?”
“It was just some random car,” she said. “It drove away.”
She seemed like she had more. “Anything else strange?”
“Yeah, he always scanned the parking lot on his way out. It’s like he had PTSD and had to be on alert all the time.”
Did this mean the fixer was real? And Ian Luther was afraid of him? How could I find out for sure?
I thought about the We Hate Benson Tadworth Facebook group. “Is there some kind of Facebook group for college counselors? If so, I want to see if anyone would be willing to talk to me about this fixer guy.”
She thought for a minute. “Not any group that I know of, but there’s a monthly networking mixer at a restaurant down in the Gaslamp district. Give me your email address and I’ll send you the website. You can sign up there.”
“So is this fixer guy the reason you left?” I asked.
She was quiet.
“Jaxon?”
“I hate to admit it, but no.” She paused. “I couldn’t take the pressure,” she said. “I mean, I have plenty of stressed out teens and parents here, but it was so over-the-top there. The students were either demanding little brats or shaking with anxiety. We had these impossible quotas for the number of students that we helped, their SAT score improvements, and the schools they were admitted to. It was too much.”
“That sounds awful,” I said.
“The parents were the worst. When the Ivy Leagues sent out their admissions, I thought the place would implode.”
She paused and said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear her. “One of the students tried to commit suicide.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“I quit the next day.”
Chapter 17
I was certainly awake afte
r Jaxon’s phone call. I couldn’t stop thinking about those poor kids with so much pressure on them to get into the right college. I vowed not to do that to Elliott. Seeing as he had zero interest in anything but musical theater, I was probably safe.
Then I thought about how hard it was to get into a good musical theater program. Maybe we weren’t so safe.
I checked out the website Jaxon sent and signed up for the networking event, paying to attend. I received a cheerful automatic email welcoming me to the event and letting me know that my forty-five dollars included appetizers, two drinks and the chance to listen to a speaker discussing the latest ways to help students take the SAT.
Forty-five dollars was definitely worth finding out if the fixer even existed.
* * * *
I had just dropped a drooping Elliott off at school, to join all of the other probably drooping drama club kids, when Yollie called to report on what Steven heard on his recorder. “Well, we can’t hear much of anything, but you were right. Steven did forget to turn off his recorder at the end of his lesson. It runs for like five minutes afterwards. Benson is definitely talking to someone, but it’s muffled and far away.”
I was so excited that it took me a moment to process. “That’s great!” I said. “Can I pick it up? Wait. I’m going to call Norma. She’ll have her tech guys work on it. They might be able to hear all kinds of things.”
“Um, okay,” Yollie said, not understanding my enthusiasm.
“Why only five minutes?” I asked, even as I wondered if there was any way to enhance the recording. Didn’t they do that all the time on TV police shows?
“Steven thinks that the girl who had the next lesson saw that the recorder was on—she probably saw the red light—and turned it off.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “Norma will probably send someone over right away to get the recorder.”
Yollie sighed. “Fine. But he needs it back fast. He uses that thing every day.”
“I’ll let her know that,” I said. Not that it would help.
Norma answered the phone and seemed as interested in the recording as I was. “Did you hear from Quincy?” she asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “First thing this morning. That’s really good.” Then I remembered that she’d been upset after the play. “Is everything okay with you? You looked like you got bad news last night.”
