by Autumn Piper
“Jesus, Cuz. You spacin’ out already?”
Stalling seemed the best tactic, since he probably wouldn’t take kindly to hearing who I’d been fantasizing about. “Hmm?”
“Get it?” He snickered. “Spacin’ out? Starin’ at the stars, spacing out.”
“Oh, yeah. Good one.” Not nearly so good as he thought, the way he was giggling like a school girl. But seeing him crack up suddenly hit me as funny too, and for what felt like several hours—though it was surely only minutes—we sat and giggled. When I’d forget what was so funny, I’d bust up again.
Finally, I could laugh no more without crying, my sides hurt so much. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I rocked and moaned, still shaking off the last chuckles.
“Goddammit,” he muttered beside me.
Suppressing yet another bout of laughter at whatever had miffed him this time, I was all set to ask him what he was irritated with now, when his fingers wrapped around my right hand. Without waiting for a word from me, he tugged the hand away from my side, sitting forward to examine it.
After several seconds, he shook his head. “No wonder you always fuckin’ remind me of her. Your damn hands…they’re just the same, you know?”
“Um, huh?” My hands? Oh, shit. They were exactly like my mom’s, and so were my legs and feet. As sneakily as possible, I tucked my feet under me, away from his sight.
“My ex. Your hands are just like hers.” He’d spread my fingers apart, and pressed his against them, comparing. “Same size, everything.” The look on his face was positively dreamy.
“Um…” I forced a laugh. “I guess you were right. This must be some pretty good shit we’re smokin’, huh?”
Without answering me, his gaze slid past my shorts, down to my legs.
“Feet, too. Same weird long toes. Never seen anybody else with little toes as long as hers. Except for you.”
A change of subject was not only in order, but imperative. “Don’t you, um, have a girlfriend?"
“Delicia’s around when I need her,” he mumbled, still caressing my hand.
“So.” If he’d thought it was uncomfortable holding my hand at the club the other night, it sure didn’t seem to be a problem now. “Nothing serious with her, huh?”
“She’s not the kind of girl you…settle down with. My ex, though…” He’d turned my hand over to peer at its palm.
And why would he never say her name?
“Your ex?” I prodded.
“Damn good cook. Damn good. Used to make the best chili I ever had.”
“Yeah.” He was right; Mom’s chili rocked.
“Yeah.” He must’ve thought I was asking for confirmation of what he said. “Made a killer chocolate chip cookie, too.”
Chocolate chip cookies sounded mighty fine. I could probably put away a dozen of them at the moment. Maybe two dozen of Mom’s chocolate chip cookies. “Yum.”
“And these meatballs she made…man!”
“Ohhh, meatballs.” I was so hungry. “Ever have her meatloaf?” She probably used the same seasonings in both, but the meatloaf was my favorite.
“Oh, yeah. Good shit.”
“Yeah. I like to get her to make an extra one so I can take it home with me when I leave.” Here was one thing Dad and I agreed on. I could see both my parents sitting at a little table for two in their apartment, sharing Mom’s wonderful dinner.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with leftover meatloaf,” he agreed. Without warning, he released my hand, letting it flop to the chair beside me. “What the fuck you talkin’ about? Jesus. Arizona sun must’ve cooked your brain and cracked your acorn, Cuz. You’re goofy as hell.”
I shifted uneasily in my chair, realizing how nuts I must have sounded. Another subject change…
“So, you working on a big term paper or what at the library for so long tonight?” Cracked acorn or not, I was determined to find out where he’d really been.
“I was tryin’ to find out about patents and stuff.”
“Oh.” Still with the library story.
“Yeah. Got this idea, see. You gotta swear secrecy; I don’t want nobody swiping my idea.” Was it paranoia from the weed that made him look all around the yard for eavesdroppers, or was he always so secretive about this subject?
I nodded and crossed my heart.
He seemed satisfied with my oath. “Sometimes when you’re workin’ under the hood of a car, you need more light. Maybe all over the engine, maybe just in one little spot. So I got this idea for a flashlight you can adjust…bright beam in a specific area, or broad beam all around.”
“Oh.” Back to my standby reply.
“Yeah, see, you could twist the aperture open and shut like on a telescope, but it would affect the light comin’ out, instead of how much comes in with a scope.”
“Ah.” I nodded. Sounded like a…Focus Light, a particular type of flashlight David owned in every size made. Did my father invent the Focus Light? Would he go on to patent it, maybe under another name? “So did you, um, find out what you needed to?” And what was he doing at the donut shop?
He let out a heavy sigh. “Looks like I’m about five grand short of what I’ll need to get a model made and start applyin’ for the patent. I could find an investor, but I want this to be my show, nobody tellin’ me what to do with my invention.”
“Oh.” Again.
“But I should have it later this week, after Rico pays me my cut from The Big. I been savin’ up for a while now.” With an air of confidentiality surely brought on by his buzz, he added, “Got almost twenty grand.”
Twenty grand. Nice little nest egg accrued by assisting in drug trafficking. Soon to be twenty-five. Money he probably had hidden somewhere, either never to be found after he disappeared, or he’d taken it with him. When he went…where? Did he go off and start a new life for himself, hiding out from Rico, and become a financially independent recluse who turned his back forever on his family? More specifically, did he make a new family somewhere else and forget about me?
With a start, I realized I’d nodded off, but Dennis was still talking.
“…Yep. Soon as I’ve got my cash together, Rico can kiss my white ass goodbye.”
I sat up straighter, rubbing my eyes. How could I have been sleeping when he was telling me exactly what I’d come here to find out? “Um…what do you mean? You gonna, like, leave town? I thought you said it was impossible to tell Rico no?”
“Let’s just say Rico’s not all I got goin’ on right now, see?” He waved his hand expansively through the air, the tip of his smoke flaring brighter. “Matter of fact, Cuz, maybe I’ll have to come out to Arizona and look you up for a little visit. Whattaya think of that?”
I thought he’d probably be looking high and low and never find me, since I’d likely be about twenty-eight years in the future by then. “Er, sure.” My mind was spinning with the possibilities though. If I could somehow link him in the future to this invention, I could maybe find him. But I needed names, since he’d obviously be changing his identity. We’d have found him if he was still Dennis Keenan. “How’d you find the companies where you can make this prototype flashlight? Are they local?”
He launched into a lengthy discussion of the research he’d done at the library, but never seemed to name a specific company. Or maybe I just missed that part, when I dozed off. When I woke, he was snoring in deep, regular intervals.
Unaccountably, a lemon had plopped in my lap, and another was on the concrete beside my chair. With no wind, though, it was hard to explain how they’d traveled what must have been thirty feet from their tree.
Maybe I shouldn’t dabble in illegal drugs anymore.
I had a mystery to solve.
At least now I knew where to snoop next time I had the chance.
Chapter 22
I’d landed in some ghastly corner of hell where a clanging bell rang for an eternity. The exertion required to wrap my arms around my ears was in vain, for the ringing permeated, seemed to echo i
nside my head.
And then the ringing stopped, to be replaced by the sound of Dennis’s voice. “Hello? Hello? Hello!” was followed by a crash which ended with a tiny ring of its own. Ah, the satisfying heft of an old-style rotary phone. Made me almost wish I’d been the one to bash it into its cradle.
Only that would have required moving my arms from my ears, which I was in no condition to do, not even when trying to hear what my dad was muttering. Something starting with “Son of…”
So maybe I hadn’t gone to hell yet. I probably deserved to. Judging by the condition of my mouth, I’d swallowed Santa Claus whole before going to sleep—felt, fur-lined suit included.
Cotton mouth. The bane of the pot-smoker. You play, you pay. The words of a certain good-natured party-loving archeology professor came back to haunt me. He’d been able to spot the spoils of a good high or drunk from a mile away and always made sure to involve me in his lectures more on those days.
I started to doze off, remembering an amorous trip I’d taken with Professor Sexy. Equal parts base-jumping and bone-jumping. Yum. He with his Indiana Jones stubble and the fedora he’d worn as an accessory to his birthday suit…
“Yo! Cuz!”
Nothing like your dad’s voice to ruin a sexy dream.
“Huh?” I opened one eye. He looked as disheveled as I felt. Headache? Check. Mouth like the Serengeti? Check. Where the hell was my pillow, so I could bury my head under it? Seemed like I’d dropped it on the floor earlier, when Grandma left.
He laughed out loud, obviously not feeling any ill effects.
I rolled to face the couch back, curled in a ball with my eyes closed tight. “Don’t you have classes today?” Maybe he’d be going away soon and I could sleep in peace.
“Nope. Let’s go do somethin’. C’mon, I’ll take ya to see the sights of Miami.” A bony part of his body—foot? Knee?—nudged my backside. “Since the phone ruined a perfectly good sleep.”
I had my own opinions as to who or what was currently disturbing my rest. “Who was it, anyway? Wrong number?”
“Who knows. Some fuckin’ heavy breather, or somethin’. Wouldn’t say a word.”
“Nice. Don’t they know we were partying late and shouldn’t be disturbed at the ungodly early hour of…”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Oh.” So it wasn’t early. Still, an hour more sleep would probably make me feel sooo much better…
“C’mon. Wake up.” He tickled the sole of my foot, much to my annoyance,.
“Go ’way.”
He chuckled. “Okay. I’ll go shower. But when I come out, you’re wakin’ up.”
Once he was gone, I mentally moseyed back to the base-jumping trip for a moment, before sinking toward the blissful abyss of sleep.
The phone rang again. And again.
A bout of temporary hearing loss was suddenly my greatest wish.
Seven rings later, it was clear the heavy breather hadn’t had enough. Mustering all the oomph I could, I rose from the couch and hurried over to the phone on the wall between the kitchen and living room.
My vision swam as I picked up the receiver, looking forward to giving it a good slam back down. “What?”
“Randi.”
Mitch.
“How’d you get this number?”
“I’m a detective, remember? Using the White Pages was a semester-long course at FBI training.”
A smart-ass I did not need, this morning. “Was that you who called before?” Of course it was. As he grunted his reply, I’d already formulated my next question. “Why didn’t you talk to Keen?”
“I wasn’t calling to check on Keen. I was calling to check on you. And I wasn’t gonna ask him to let me talk to you.”
“So you, what, figured eventually he’d get sick of answering and have me do it?”
“Look, I don’t have long to talk before my tanning appointment, but—”
“Are you telling me you found a tanning bed in Miami? Why don’t you go to the beach? And what’s with the brown contacts anyway? Why can’t you just be a white boy like Keen? It’s not like you pass as Cuban, with no accent.”
“I’m the son of Rico’s cousin Maria in Jersey, that’s why.”
“Oh. That’s a good cover, but what if Maria calls him for some reason?”
Even over the phone, his sigh conveyed his exasperation. “Maria’s husband Ernie turned state’s witness February seventh. The whole family is in protective custody. Maria called—as suggested by the Bureau—and asked Rico if he’d put her son, who he’s never met, to work while she and her husband go to Cuba for a couple months.”
“But, if you’re family…why would Rico make you the fall guy the other night?”
“His sources discovered Ernie was meeting the cops. It was one of those mob favors that isn’t really a favor at all. I’m sure Rico would have been happy if I’d been capped that night. You really bungled up his plan.”
I swallowed hard. Rico wanted Mitch dead? “You took this assignment knowing Rico would be trying to off you?”
“No. I went to see my superiors yesterday to find out why the hell Rico would get rid of his cousin’s kid.”
“So are you gonna keep working for Rico, when he has it in for you?”
“Yes.”
“Mitch. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, why don’t you tell me who you’re looking to find and I’ll keep my eyes open—”
“Jesus. Only you would have such a wild idea. Rico’s got to have it in for you just as much as me.”
“Okay then. Let’s leave.” It was suddenly imperative to remove Mitch from danger. “I figured out what happens to my dad. At least, part of it. He invented the Focus Light! All I have to do is find out what name he assumes when he applies for the patent and then I can find him in the future!”
Silence.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t believe everything he tells you, Randi.”
“What’s not to believe? He explained to me how it works, and I don’t think it’s been invented yet, and—”
“You know he wasn’t out ’til all hours of the night working at the library. Look, before he gets out of the shower…” Something wasn’t right. “…I need to tell you—”
“Shower. How’d you know he was in the shower?”
Silence. Then, “That’s what ninety-nine percent of the population does right after they wake up, right?”
“You, you, bugged this house, didn’t you?” And now he was trying to deny it? “Oh my God! You totally bugged the house!”
“What the hell else was I supposed to do when you could never remember to check in with the radio? Jesus, Randi.”
“You bugged it and you…what? Sit around there listening to my every move? Isn’t that illegal or unethical or something?”
“Dennis Keenan is a key operative in one of the most complex drug cartels Miami’s ever seen. I bugged his house for the case.”
“Oh, what a load of bullshit. I don’t need you watching over me, Goodman. Tell me where the bugs are.”
“I think you need lots of watching over, Drew. You seem prone to getting yourself into situations.”
“Such as?”
“Such as getting high and talking about your mom’s cooking. And telling Keen it’s never too late to be a good dad.” Uh oh. “You know what’s gonna fucking happen if he decides to be part of his little girl’s life? You’re history, that’s what.”
Wait a minute. We were outside for our little weed party. “Did you bug the lanai too?”
Silence.
Oh, Christ. “You were watching out there, weren’t you?” God. I had no recollection of talking to Keen about being a dad. Or did I? Some foggy memory of him talking about wanting to have kids and do it right one day…burning jealousy over the notion of somebody else getting to be his little girl…“Damn. Do you think he remembers?”
“Considering he passed out halfway through the conversation, I doub
t it. But the message might have sunk in, anyway. Look, Randi. I want you to leave before you slip up in a way we can’t fix. I’m really afraid you’re going to alter history.”
“I won’t.” The fact that he was worried I’d mess up and we wouldn’t have a chance to be together helped my headache considerably. “I already decided last night, no more weed for me. From now on, I’m staying sober so I can collect clues. So, about your end of the case. What am I watching for? Do you have a name or a description?”
“You won’t even consider it, will you? How the hell am I supposed to protect us both and still solve this? Dammit.” It sounded like he hit something. He was worried for me, which meant he cared. Even though he’d refused to come hang out with me the day before, he’d watched over me.
The independent side of me was pissed at his infringing on my privacy but the softer side of me knew he hadn’t called me this morning to check on me at all. He knew I was fine, hung over at the worst. Maybe he’d missed me.
“Seriously,” he said, his voice much more controlled. “I think you should stay home tonight—”
“But Rico wants me in on The Big now.”
“If you stay home tonight, you can lay low ’til after The Big, and then we’ll get outta here. There’s gonna be a bust. It’s not a safe place to be.”
Not a safe place to be. How irritating that he figured I didn’t belong there, but he did! “Look, I came here to find out what happened to my father and I have a feeling I’ll know after Thursday night.” He’d probably get his cash and the plans for his invention and skip town. Maybe if I was around, I’d be able to find out where he headed.
“You’re not coming, Randi. I’ll have you picked up and detained somewhere if I have—”
“Oh, here comes Keen. I’d better go. See you tonight!”
With a resounding thunk, the receiver settled in its cradle. Keen was not, in fact, headed my way. But I wasn’t about to end that conversation on an angry note, which would have happened if I’d let Mitch finish his threat.
