by Bulock, Lynn
“Wow. I know Dot will agree with me when I say that’s a dandy present.” I couldn’t help asking what was on my mind. “How did we get so lucky, anyway? I figured that you all would be so slammed with other work that we’d be lucky to see you before spring.”
Bob laughed. “You don’t know my dad very well, then. He always schedules a lot of open time after Thanksgiving so that if any of our jobs get hung up before then, we can at least get them done before Christmas.”
“And this year we stayed on schedule with everything but this one, honestly.” Ed’s smile went all the way to his eyes. “Besides, my wife would skin me alive if I wasn’t ready to go up to the cabin at Lake Arrowhead by Christmas Eve. We’ve done it since this guy was in diapers and my parents owned the cabin.”
It sounded like a great family getaway and I told him so. For a moment it made me sad that I wouldn’t be having a big family Christmas this year myself. Ben would leave the end of the week to go see Hal, and my mom isn’t the kind to surprise me by flying out. Just not her style. Hopefully Dot and Buck, or Linnette at least, would have room for me at one house or the other for the holidays. Spending them totally alone sounded awful.
Father and son made a few more notations and said goodbye so they could go over and talk to Dot. Once they left I heard doors shutting in the bathroom and the shower turn on. Ben was up for another morning before eleven without prodding. Maybe having a girlfriend wasn’t such a bad thing for him after all. I couldn’t assume he was rising this early just to see me, but I’ll cheerfully reap the benefits of him wanting to go out with Cai Li.
We had a cheerful conversation while he ate a bowl of cereal. At least my end was cheerful. His started by taking me to task. “Did you have to ask so many questions?”
“Sure. Why should meeting her be any different than meeting your other friends through the years? Face it—I knew more about Ted after having been in the suite ten minutes than you guys had found out in a week.”
“Yeah, but was any of it important stuff?”
“It was to me. How’s his break going, anyway?”
Ben really looked at me then like I’d sprouted a second head. “How would I know? He went back home to Wherevers-ville in Minnesota and I’ll see him when we both get back to school.” His disbelief that I’d actually expect him to talk to or e-mail his roommate was more than evident. I decided it wasn’t a good time to point out that I still exchanged Christmas cards with my freshman-year roommate. Just the difference between the sexes, I guess.
It was time to start another subject. “So, what are your plans for the day?”
“We’ll probably hit a couple thrift stores, have lunch and maybe go for boba again.” His grin was wicked. “Want us to bring you back one? Tapioca Express over in Simi Valley makes a blue raspberry milk tea one that is a blue I can’t even describe.”
I tried to suppress a shudder. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Feel free to bring your friend back anyway. And this time I’ll try to keep my questions to a minimum.”
“As if that’s possible, Mom.” At least he was smiling when he said it.
Ben soon went off to visit thrift stores or whatever it was that the two of them decided to do, and while he was gone I wrapped his Christmas presents. There wasn’t a huge pile when I was done, but we’d never gone crazy with Christmas gifts anyway. Hal’s parents always went so far overboard that I learned early on not to compete. True, Grandpa Roger and his current wife tended toward gift certificates to places like Abercrombie & Fitch that Ben wouldn’t be caught dead shopping at. And Grandma Lillian, while she took a little more care in picking things out, still usually missed the mark.
I knew that the one video game—not the kind where any people blew up, thank you very much—and the DVD of a movie that he’d watched with Dave at least twice a week in seventh grade would go over well. The other things I wrapped were silly fun stuff like athletic socks with the Pacific Oaks panther mascot logo and a package of fine-point black pens in hopes that he wouldn’t run off in January with all of mine in the apartment.
I thought about calling my mom while I wrapped gifts but knew she’d only cluck at me. Her gifts for the two of us had been shipped the day after Thanksgiving and had probably been wrapped somewhere around Halloween. I was just happy that I’d gotten her present, a spiffy “Pac Oaks Mom” sweatshirt and matching coffee mug, before the bookstore closed once finals were over. Only my proximity to the store while working at the Coffee Corner made me that efficient—that and Linnette nagging me more than once in the last month of school.
Even the little bit of wrapping I did kept me busy for a couple hours in the afternoon. When I got up off the floor and stretched—a process that takes longer and feels worse every year—the clock proclaimed it to be 3:00 p.m. already. Walking off the stiffness in my knees, I went to the large front window and could see Buck out by the dog pens talking to a dark-haired kid. It looked like I would finally have a chance to meet Frankie Collins.
It was one of those contrary days where the sun shone brightly but a little breeze kicked up now and then, making it feel cooler than the 70 degrees the porch thermometer registered. The Capri-length jeans and T-shirt that felt just fine inside made me shiver a little when that bit of wind caught me going down the outside stairs. Still, I didn’t want to go back up and get a jacket and blow my Midwestern warm-blooded image. Besides, Frankie, like most kids his age, wore shorts with his impossibly large tennies and a long-sleeved T-shirt advertising a rock band in all its rude glory. He’d already think I was an old lady anyway, but I figured why confirm his beliefs.
Once I stood close to him he looked like exactly what he was, a slightly pudgy kid nowhere near needing to shave yet. I tried to remember where Dot said he was in school. Eighth grade stuck in my mind. That alone would explain why he hadn’t looked up once from his dog pen cleaning, even if I couldn’t see the headphones and portable CD player he wore. His head bobbed to the music as he halfheartedly worked with a hose.
“I’ll introduce you when I can make eye contact.” Buck’s voice behind me nearly put me airborne. I’d always startled easily, much to Ben’s delight. Now Buck put a large hand on my shoulder. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get you that stirred up.”
“Not a problem. Anybody talking behind me does it. So how’s he doing so far?”
I turned to look at Buck and could see him worrying the corner of his silver mustache with his tongue a little. “Well, about as good as I’ve found any kid his age to work out. He’s prompt most of the time anyway.”
Buck almost always found a good word to say about somebody, even when he said it in his gruff way. While punctuality was important to him, the fact that noting it was the best thing he could say about Frankie told me a lot about his quality of work. Still, the kid needed the money, so I knew Buck would be patient with him for quite a while.
“Ah, there he is,” Buck said, and I turned around to see Frankie come out of the pen he had finished with and slip off the headphones. “Frank, I want to introduce you to Gracie Lee. If Mrs. Morgan and I have to go anywhere, Gracie Lee will be working with you. I probably should say Mrs. Harris will be the one telling you what to do. Gracie Lee, this is Frank Collins, Jr.”
“Hey. Good to meet you, Frank.” I put out my hand, but then realized he probably wouldn’t shake it. Between being a young teen at an awkward phase and the tools he had to balance, it wouldn’t work. When it became evident quickly that I was right, I put down my hand so as not to fluster him.
“Hi,” he said more to the ground than my face. In an adult I could have taken offense at that; from a boy his age it was normal behavior. After a bit of a shuffle he looked up at Buck. “What else you got for me to do?”
“Have you ever brushed and groomed a dog before? Sophie could sure use it.”
“Nuh-uh. Is it hard to do? I don’t want to hurt her or anything.”
“I wouldn’t let you. Why don’t I get the dog and Mrs. Harris will show you th
e tools and how to use them.”
“Okay.” Frankie put the hose and other equipment down without a lot of grace. I went over to and turned off the water without saying anything. Maybe if I modeled good behavior he’d catch on eventually. Or maybe I’d just have to be blunt and tell him what to do.
I went over to the supply cabinet next to the dog runs where Buck kept grooming equipment. Opening a drawer, I got out the brush and flea comb we’d use on Sophie. I explained how to use them, and then held them out to Frankie. “Do you want to try it first, or watch me a little before you try it?”
He had a speculative look, eyes narrowed, that made me see a bit of his father in him. I could almost feel him debating which was worse; possibly making a fool of himself or taking instruction from a woman. Finally he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll watch. Just for a little while.”
Buck was leading sweet, docile Sophie toward us by then. She never complained about being groomed, so she was the best choice for this exercise. She and Dixie were Lab mix with something much furrier thrown in, like Shepherd or collie. “This is Sophie.” Buck stopped and patted the wide grooming bench and she jumped up on it looking happy. He dropped the leash. “You don’t have to leash her to anything while you groom her. Some of the other dogs you do, but you wouldn’t want to start with them anyway. I’ll leave you two to your work.”
Without a lot of fanfare I started brushing the dog in long, easy strokes from her neck to hips. “She grows a heavier winter undercoat and that’s what sheds if we don’t brush her pretty often. It doesn’t usually tangle, but don’t jerk the brush or she’ll grumble at you.”
Frankie nodded, watching silently. After a few more strokes I stood back a step and handed him the brush. He was a little tentative at first, which was better than being too rough with her. At first he worked quietly. It was only after he had finished almost a whole side of Sophie’s dark body that he spoke. “I still get paid for this even if you’re showing me how, right?” He sounded suspicious.
“Sure. You can’t know how to do everything right away. Learning is part of the job.”
“Good. I’ve got plans for the money already.”
“Cool. Plans are good…you have a new CD in mind?” I asked, pointing down at his player.
He gave me a look more scornful than Ben would ever have dared. “Get real. I want to make sure the cops keep the lowlife who killed my dad locked up. Or maybe I can do something about it if they screw up and let him go.”
I felt stunned into silence. His voice was so cold and calculating that for a moment I forgot this was only a thirteen-year-old next to me. He had a man’s anger without a man’s maturity. It was a dangerous combination I knew I needed to tell Ray Fernandez about, and soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Honestly, I expected Ray to be far more appreciative of my information. I only got voice mail that evening when I tried to reach him, so I left a barebones message. There are some things you just don’t want to say over a phone, and discussing the possible murderous tendencies of a young teen was one of those things for me. By eight Tuesday morning my phone rang. “Is this worth my coming over there this early?” It wasn’t the most pleasant greeting I’d ever gotten from him, but it wasn’t the worst, either.
“I think it is. Should I put on coffee?”
“I’ll grab some on the way. Should I bring you anything?”
“No, I’m okay with what I’ve got here,” I told him and he hung up quickly. I made a face at the phone when I put it back in its cradle and went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee anyway. I was worth it even if he disdained my coffee.
No sooner had I started filling the coffeemaker carafe with water than the phone rang again. By now I should know to always look at the caller ID before I pick up, but lately I’ve gotten lazy. This time that gave me a problem.
“Hey, Gracie Lee. How’re you doing?” That smooth Tennessee-tinged voice still made me want to drop the phone every time.
“Okay, Hal. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to Ben about his ticket for Christmas, and what we’re doing. Is he there?”
Where did the man expect his son to be this time of morning? He’d obviously forgotten so much of his own teenage life, and paid so little attention to Ben’s that he had no clue. “Of course he’s here. Sound asleep, but here.”
“I’m not going to have time later to do this again and it’s urgent. Can you get him awake enough to talk pretty quick?”
Oh, sure. Hal Harris could make my temper flare more quickly than any man on the planet. Even Fernandez ran a distant second most of the time. Silent prayer was the only weapon powerful enough to deal with this without shrieking into the phone. After saying a fervent, silent prayer and taking a deep breath I felt calm enough to speak again. “I’ll try, Hal, but I can’t make any promises. He’s a pretty sound sleeper.”
There was a masculine noise of frustration on the other end of the phone. “You let him get away with anything, don’t you? What’s he doing in bed this late on a weekday?”
Still making my way to Ben’s bedroom, I kept my temper as best I could. “First, let me remind you that it’s several hours earlier in California than Memphis. And second, he’s less than a week into his first break after a tough semester of college. If that’s letting him ‘get away with’ anything, then deal with it because I’m fine with him sleeping in.”
By then I was at Ben’s door and I knocked harder than I’d planned to. Muffled, non-alert noises came from inside. “Ben? Your dad’s on the phone. Do you want to talk?” I held the phone away from me so Hal didn’t hear Ben’s answer in case it was less than polite. While I’d cheerfully argue with Hal if only the two of us were involved, once Ben joined any situation I’d be pleasant and civil for his sake.
There was a groan and some thumping, and Ben opened the door just wide enough for me to see his rumpled hair, the one eye he had open and the saggy flannel pants he slept in. “I guess. Phone?” He held one hand out and I gave him the cordless handset and the door closed again. I went back to the kitchen to finish making coffee. It was still filling the carafe after brewing when there was a knock on the door.
“Hello. Come in,” I told Ray. He stood at the doorway for a minute with his lidded paper cup and viewed me silently.
“Honest, if I knew it meant that much to you I would have agreed to drink your coffee,” he said, sounding as if he meant it.
“What are you talking about?” This seemed to be my morning for male aggravation.
“You sound really ticked off at me and we haven’t even talked yet.” I waved away his concern and ushered him in.
“It’s not you. Ben’s dad called to talk to him a few minutes ago. I’m always unpleasant when I have to deal with Hal this early in the day.” Of course I wasn’t any better when I dealt with him later in the day, either.
Ray wore an expression of relief. “At least it wasn’t me for a change.”
My mood was already toast. “No, that will come in a few minutes when you tell me how wrong I am for suspecting anything.”
He smiled weakly. “Aw, c’mon. Give me a chance here. I might even say you have a point.”
I poured myself some coffee and sat down in the living room armchair, where I proceeded to tell Ray all about my encounter with Frankie Collins the day before. Of course I also had to give him the background information on the kid from talking to his mom a couple times. I did leave out the little shoving match the two of us had at Christian Friends over a week ago. None of the rest of it impressed Fernandez, though.
By the time I finished he looked a bit sour and his coffee cup appeared to be mostly empty. He still waved away the offer of a refill. “Okay, you were right. I’m not going to tell you that you have a point. You have a son. What kind of stuff did he say at thirteen to sound tough?”
“Certainly he didn’t offer threats of murder, at least not in my hearing.”
“Now, look. If what you’ve told me
is accurate, Frankie didn’t threaten murder, either. There are lots of ways to ‘take care of’ somebody you don’t like besides killing them. He’s an angry kid who has a lot of good reasons to be angry. Let’s leave it at that. Meanwhile I need to leave to prepare for court this afternoon.”
“For this case or another one?”
Ray scowled. “This one. That hot-shot lawyer Ms. Adams got Seavers has made a motion to get the charges down to suspicions of manslaughter and get his client released on his own recognizance because he’s such a low flight risk.”
“Hey, you were the one who said you didn’t think Matt was a murderer.”
“That was before the evidence techs found his handprint on an inside wall of that portable facility, right where you’d expect to see it if somebody pulled a heavy object, like a body, in there.”
Lexy had been right in her assumptions, but this still made me mad. “Ray, that handprint could be from any time since they put that thing in the driveway. How can that one thing make you change your mind so radically?”
He gave me a look much like the one Ben usually gave me when he thought I was being denser than usual. It wasn’t any more attractive or less annoying on Fernandez. “I’m not changing my mind that much. Seavers has been a person of interest ever since we knew how his girlfriend was involved. And now on top of everything else I have to worry about him getting out of jail and being back on the streets.”
“As much as I want to see that happen, now I’m afraid he’ll be in more danger out than in,” I told him.
“Why? Because you heard a thirteen-year-old boy shooting off his mouth? Maybe you and that church group of yours can find a way to pray over both of them and make the situation go away.” He pushed off the couch and left me to jump up and follow him to my own front door. “But if you’ll excuse me, I still need to prepare for that hearing in Ventura.”
He turned around when he got to the doorway. The speed of the motion almost made me run into him. “If you have any information like this again, please just call.”
