A Thorn Among the Lilies

by Michael Hiebert

  “You will. Bye.”

  Dewey must’ve been waiting for Abe’s call right by the phone all evening because, when Abe called, Carry could tell Dewey answered it on the first ring. Then it seemed like only eight minutes went by before he was knocking on their back door.

  “Wow, you must really wanna come to my party,” she said to him. “All I can say is: I hope you brought a present.”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “I just have to unstrap it from my bike. What kind of person would show up at a birthday without a present?”

  Dewey went back outside to his bike and returned with a nicely wrapped gift that was spherical. About ten inches in diameter. He very gently handed it to Carry. “Be careful, it’s breakable,” he said.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Open it,” her mother said.

  Then Carry shrieked. “It just moved. All by itself. Take it away from me!”

  “Open it!” Dewey said.

  “I’m too afraid!” Carry said.

  “Is it one of your inventions?” Abe asked.

  “I wish,” Dewey said.

  Another shriek. “It moved again, Mother. Please take it away from me!”

  “Just open it, honey. How bad can it be?”

  Everyone looked at Dewey. “Think ’bout what you just said,” Carry replied.

  “Point taken.”

  Finally, Carry got her courage up to gingerly open the spherical gift. When she did, she screamed far louder than she had shrieked. “You got me a rat?! For my birthday?”

  “A rat in a ball,” Dewey said, smugly. “Who doesn’t want one of those?”

  “I don’t!” Carry said.

  “Put it on the floor,” Dewey advised. “Let it wheel around.”

  Carry dropped the ball onto the floor. The rat indeed wheeled around the kitchen. It bumped into the stove, then the fridge. Then it came back toward Carry.

  She shrieked again. “It’s coming at me!”

  “It likes you,” Dewey said, smiling.

  Just then there was a knock on the back door, and Carry’s demeanor changed entirely. “I’ll answer that.”

  She opened the door to Jonathon standing there, his red hair bright under the setting sun. In his hands was a bouquet of winter flowers. He was dressed rather smartly in a fancy white shirt and black pants. He even had nice shoes on.

  “Jonathon!” Carry said with a big grin. “Come on in.” They walked into the kitchen, where her mother, Abe, Dewey, and the rat already were waiting.

  Carry took a step back, and said, “You look . . .” Scrumptious . . . “. . . nice.”

  “Am I overdressed?” he said, frowning.

  “No,” Carry’s mother said, coming through the dining room to meet him. “We’re just all underdressed. You look perfect. I’m Leah Teal. Just call me Leah.” She held out her hand.

  “Thanks, Leah,” Jonathon said, shaking her hand (he had to move the flowers to his other hand first). “Call me anything you like. But my name is Jonathon.” He smiled and Carry’s mother smiled back. Carry had a big, stupid grin she just couldn’t get rid of. She was eating all this up like ice cream.

  Then the rat in the ball came bouncing off furniture into the dining room.

  “Whose rat is that?” Jonathon asked.

  “Dewey’s,” Carry said. “Well, I guess, technically, it’s mine. Dewey gave it to me for my birthday.”

  “Lucky you. I’ve always wanted a rat. I would name it Algernon.”

  “Well,” Carry said, “today’s your lucky day. You just got your wish. The rat is yours.”

  “Really? Wow. Thank you. Oh, and these are for you.” He handed Carry the flowers.

  “Now let me introduce you to the two most annoying people on earth while I look for a vase to put these in,” Carry said, nodding to Abe and Dewey.

  While Carry searched through the cupboards for a vase that would fit the bouquet, her mother came up to her with a surprise. She leaned in close and whispered. “Here’s a birthday present for you: so far, I really like him.”

  CHAPTER 46

  The Waterhouse Burgers & Steak Grill wasn’t as fancy as Vera’s, but it was still pretty awesome and it had more of a party atmosphere. When (if) they found out it was your birthday, they made you wear this moose helmet with ridiculous antlers; then the staff took turns drumming on it from behind while they sang “Happy Birthday.” Of course, everyone pretended they didn’t want the staff to find out it was your birthday, but, secretly, they really wanted the moose helmet treatment.

  The restaurant also had a nice view of the courthouse where the town planned for a big fireworks display on New Year’s Eve. Carry had heard all of the tickets for that were already sold out, though. The Waterhouse was even going to have rooftop seating and everything. It’s too bad she met Jonathon so late. It would have made for a great date.

  But tonight was a great date, too. When they weren’t in the car, he held her hand, except for when he was careful to open the doors for her and her mother, and do every other thing listed in the Big Book of First Date Ethics. Even if her mother hadn’t told Carry she liked Jonathon, Carry could tell that she did. Compared to her last boyfriend, Jonathon was fantastic. Carry couldn’t imagine a date going as bad with Jonathon as that one had. But that was water under the bridge now. Thank Jesus.

  Despite having reservations, they still had to wait fifteen minutes to get a table and, for a Thursday, the place seemed unusually packed. It probably had to do with it still being part of the “festive holidays.” Carry didn’t mind, though.

  When they finally got their seats, one person had to sit in a chair at the end of the booth. There were just too many of them. Carry knew better than to try and separate Abe from Dewey, so it fell to her or Jonathon to sit on the chair. Jonathon offered to take the chair right away—of course—but Carry decided to let him have the booth seat. Their knees still touched. That was good enough for her.

  Carry noticed that, when she was with Jonathon, time went much faster than normal. It wasn’t fair.

  Once everyone was seated, Carry’s mother asked who was having drinks and appys so they’d be ready when the waitress came around.

  “Mother, can’t you just say ‘appetizers’?” Carry asked.

  “Why? Is ‘appy’ not an ‘in’ word?”

  “Not coming from someone who’s forty.”

  “Lay off her,” Jonathon said. “She’s welcome to use any word she wants. I happen to think your mother is completely cool enough to use the word ‘appy’ if she so desires.”

  Carry felt her face grow red. “Thank you, Jonathon,” Carry’s mother said. Carry shut her mouth and said no more about the subject.

  Abe wanted a stack of onion rings for his appetizer. It was called the Leaning Tower of Oinisa—which Carry thought was a stretch. Carry wanted a Caesar salad. Jonathon said he’d like cheese bread and told Carry she had to share it with him, and Leah just said she’d eat the half of the onion rings that Abe wouldn’t be able to finish. “The lower half of the Tower of Oinisa. Where the princess is kept,” she said, trying to be funny. Carry thought her mother shouldn’t try to be funny, but instead of saying this, she said, “That’s the spirit, Mom.”

  “Can I order a piece of cake?” Dewey asked.

  “This is an appetizer,” Carry’s mother said. “It’s a before-meal meal. Cake is a dessert meal.”

  Dewey started into a speech so jam-packed with Dewey logic, it was deserving of an award. Carry knew Jonathon was loving it: “Is that written down somewhere? I’d like to read it. See, the way I reckon it is like this: Say I order the peppercorn steak, which I currently have my eye on. Now, if I finish all that steak and the fixins and mashed taters it comes with, I’m gonna be too full for cake. But I want cake. So I’ll have my cake now and bring whatever parts of the meal I don’t eat home with me. Takin’ dessert home sucks. It never tastes very good. And dessert’s cheaper than the rest of the appetizers. Well, most of them, at least . . .”<
br />
  As usual, it was a Dewey-ism with little room for rebuttal. “Oh, order your damn cake,” Leah said.

  Dewey’s smile ran from ear to ear as the waitress came up to our table.

  “Can I start you with any drinks or appys?”

  “I’ll have the Leaning Tower of Oinisa,” Abe said. Carry was happy her mother didn’t add, “Where the princess is kept.”

  “I’ll have a Caesar salad,” Carry said.

  “I’ll have a Super-Duper Chocolate Brownie Explosion,” Dewey said, as though it were the kind of thing folk order every day for an appetizer.

  “You want that now or after dinner?” the waitress asked.

  “Let me explain this to you,” Dewey said. “I reckon it goes this way, say I order the peppercorn steak, which I—”

  Leah cut him off. “He would like it as an appetizer, please.”

  Dinner went off without a hitch. Even Abe and Dewey were tolerable despite Jonathon trying to draw them into ridiculous conversations like: How many dilithium crystals does it take to run the Millennium Falcon anyway? I heard Captain Kirk was actually a robot in the Star Trek movie. Did you know Han Solo is a Buddhist monk?

  She didn’t think they ever once thought he was joking. He managed to hold back his laughter throughout the entire night. Carry didn’t know how he did it. She wouldn’t have been able to.

  But the greatest thing by far was the last belated Christmas gift he presented her with.

  “Guess what I got us?” he asked.

  “Oh. It’s going to be another dorky lie, isn’t it? A stuffed C-3PO doll?”

  “Nope, tickets to this restaurant for New Year’s Eve at eleven o’clock. Rooftop seating. We have front row on the roof for the fireworks at midnight.”

  Silence skittered across the table. Carry’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

  “Totally serious.” Even Carry’s mother looked a little stunned.

  “How?”

  “I have contacts.”

  “What, are you in the mob or somethin’?”

  “Or somethin’.”

  Carry looked at her mother. “Is it okay if—”

  “Of course!” She looked just as surprised as Carry.

  “What ’bout me?” Abe asked.

  “I think you and Dewey are old enough to stay by yourselves until midnight,” Carry’s mother said. “I won’t be much later than that.”

  “Wait,” Carry said. “Mom? You have New Year’s Eve plans?”

  Her mother gave a wry smile. “Your mother has a date.”

  “She does?” Carry asked. “When do I get to decide if I approve?”

  “You don’t get to approve or disapprove. That’s my job.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Just a guy. A detective from Birmingham.”

  “Really. Wow. Is it serious?”

  “No, no.” She looked away, flushed. Carry wondered how serious it really was. Her mother obviously cared for this man.

  “What’s his name?”

  Her mother hesitated, then said, “Dan. Dan Truitt.”

  “Detective Dan Truitt. Sounds like a made-up name for a crime novel.”

  “Oh,” her mother laughed, “I can assure you he is not made up. He is definitely different from my usual type, though.”

  “Your usual type? Have you ever been on a date?”

  She thought about this. “Well, different from your pa, I guess.”

  “Different’s good,” Carry said, and smiled.

  “Anyway, getting back to New Year’s Eve. I won’t be late, boys.” She gave Carry a look. “Neither will Carry. So one of us will be home by one at the latest, in plenty of time to look after you. You can have Dewey stay over and watch the ball drop on the television.”

  Carry couldn’t believe it. For the first time in her fifteen-year life, she had plans for New Year’s Eve.

  CHAPTER 47

  The fifty-seven (fifty-nine if you count the mayor and his wife) background checks that Chris asked the Mobile office for came back. All but three had no real police incidents worth looking at, other than speeding tickets or parking ticket violations.

  One, of course, was Preacher Eli, who had gotten out of prison after serving time for accidentally shooting three-year-old Caleb Carson. But Leah had already ruled him out of any bad doings when she solved what had come to be known as the “Orwin Thomas Affair.”

  The other two, Leah remembered now that she had them in front of her. One was Corwin Strait, a twenty-two-year-old who had held up the Alvin Liquor Store with a .12 gauge sawed off. Within seconds of him leaving the store, the storekeeper was on the phone to the station. Because of where the liquor store is located on Main Street, Leah and Chris were able to cage him like a rat. There was a standoff for about twenty-five minutes that was fairly tense, but in the end the police got their man. He wound up being sentenced to ten years. He got out a year and a half ago. And if Leah remembered correctly, Corwin hated cops. He didn’t get out for good behavior, let’s put it that way.

  But why wait a year before starting to kill people if it was him? Still, she put him on her suspect list. She would definitely be dropping in unexpectedly for a chat.

  It was always better to drop in on suspects unexpectedly because, by using the element of surprise, you weren’t giving them the opportunity to fabricate a lie or come up with some sort of alibi. You made them have to do it on the fly, and most people ain’t that good at coming up with stuff right off the top of their heads.

  The other suspect of the three potentials was Glen Swift, a good ole’ boy who liked his beer like he liked his motorcycles and liked them to go together. He had a drunk driving accident involving himself and, of all places, the front window of the Alvin First National Bank. He wound up spending six months in prison and paying some hefty fines, mainly because he pissed off the judge with his attitude. He got out about eight months ago, but Leah didn’t see him being someone who would go around killing people. To her, he didn’t show that kind of ambition. Still, the dates matched better than they did with Corwin, although there was still a gap of five months between his release and the first body being found. She wrote him down on the suspect list anyway.

  The mayor’s record was squeaky clean; not even a parking ticket violation. For some reason it pissed Leah off. She wanted to see at least something sordid in his past. Nobody could be that perfect. Could they?

  CHAPTER 48

  Leah decided to check out Corwin Strait first and leave Glen Swift for dessert. By far, Swift would be the easier to deal with.

  Strait lived in a rundown shotgun shack on Abbot Drive, close to Cornflower Lake. It had once been painted red, but had taken on a rust color over the years. Leah noticed there wasn’t a single Christmas decoration to be seen. No lights anywhere, no Santa Claus or baby Jesus nativity scenes in the yard. She assumed Corwin Strait wasn’t really the festive type.

  The porch leaned left, but seemed stable enough as she walked up the steps and knocked on the door. She noticed a mud-covered green Ford pickup parked in the driveway beside the house. There was also a garage that appeared in slightly better repair. Set back from the shack, it had the same rusted red siding and was almost camouflaged in a clutch of firs and pines.

  She knocked on the door and, after a minute or two, it was answered. Leah immediately knew the man on the other side was Strait: He had a wandering eye and hadn’t shaven in at least three days. He wore a T-shirt that hid the top of the tattoos running down both arms. Tattoos of snakes and skulls.

  His eyes squinted as he looked Leah up and down. “I know you,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

  Leah showed her badge. “Detective Teal, Alvin Police,” she replied. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I ain’t talkin’ to no cops.”

  “Then I’d like to take a look around. In particular, I’d like to look in your garage. And, possibly, do a quick search of your house.”

  “You ain’t comin’ near
my place without no warrant,” Strait said.

  Leah expected this. She sighed. “You sure you wanna do this the hard way? Your attitude makes you look guilty, like you have somethin’ to hide. I can easily get a warrant. Whereas if you just comply on your own volition, it looks good for you.”

  “Looks good for me for what? I ain’t done nothin’. What do you suspect me of?”

  “If you ain’t done nothin’, you shouldn’t be ’fraid of me lookin’ round. And so far I don’t suspect you of nothin’.”

  “I ain’t ’fraid, Miss Detective, I just don’t want cops in my place of residence. Now, kindly remove yourself from my front door.”

  With that, he calmly closed the door on Leah’s face.

  She had to bite her tongue from yelling an insult.

  Back inside her car, she radioed Chris to apply for a search warrant for Corwin Strait. She put him near the top of her suspect list. Nobody’s that paranoid about letting cops in unless they’re hiding something.

  Then she backed out onto Abbot Drive and headed out to see Glen Swift, happy to have left the dessert for last.

  CHAPTER 49

  Leah knocked on the door of Glen Swift’s house. Unlike Corwin Strait, Swift’s place was nicely kept. He actually had a garden out front of his split-level home, obviously planted for flowers that blossomed in the spring and bloomed in the winter. There were three trees in his front yard, all of them Japanese maples. The little blue home with the white accents looked rather pretty to Leah, especially with the small twinkle Christmas lights adorning the trim. She’d only met the man once, but he seemed humble and docile, his only downfall being his love of beer, so this wasn’t quite a leap in her head. He did his crime, maybe he was done with the dark side of the law entirely.

  Or maybe he just gave up driving. There was no vehicle in the driveway.

  A kid answered the door. He couldn’t have been older than ten. He was still in his pajamas, despite the fact that it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “Whatcha want?” he asked.