Shotgun
Page 21
“I have a problem.”
MATT ARRIVED a mere five minutes later and spent more than an hour walking around my house, taking pictures and once again checking every window and lock.
“You’re sure nothing’s missing?” he asked for at least the third time.
“Pretty sure.”
We’d made a full circuit of the house and ended up in the kitchen. Matt leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “There’s no doubt at this point this guy has a key.”
I nodded as I massaged my temples, trying to ward off a headache. “I know.”
“How?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know. Like I told you before, I had the locks changed as soon as I moved in.”
“Didn’t you change them again last time?”
I could barely meet his eyes. “No.”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “I specifically told you to change the locks.”
I scowled, feeling like a recalcitrant child. “I know, but I didn’t really think anybody had been inside.”
He lowered his eyebrows at me. I had the feeling he was barely managing to not rail at me for my naïveté. “Well, there isn’t much doubt about it now, is there? It must be somebody who’s had access to you and your belongings. Maybe somebody at work?”
I shook my head. I’d gone over it already. At no point had my keys been missing long enough for somebody to have a copy made. Even if they snuck into my classroom during lunch and stole my key ring, chances of them getting in and out and having time to get across town to the hardware store were slim. The only scenario I could come up with was that somebody had used a bar of soap, like they did in old movies. But it was an absurd notion. It wasn’t as if you could walk into a hardware store with a bar of soap and ask for a key to be made. Was modern soap even soft enough to take an imprint? And who the hell used bar soap anymore, anyway?
“There’s nobody,” I said again.
“What about Dominic? He would have had plenty of opportunity to have one made.”
“I don’t think so,” I told him. “He’s never taken my keys and mysteriously disappeared for an hour, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Matt sighed in frustration and rubbed his forehead. “You can’t stay here tonight.”
“I know.” I’d already thought of that, although I wasn’t sure where to go. “Maybe I can check into the hotel down on Main Street.”
One of his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Can’t you stay with Dominic?”
My cheeks began to burn. I forced myself to not fidget as I answered. “No. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
Matt’s eyebrow rose higher. “Did something happen?”
It wasn’t the question of a friend. He wasn’t asking out of concern. He was being a cop, through and through, pursuing any hint of trouble that could point him in the direction of my stalker. Still, it was a personal question. One I wasn’t anxious to answer. “He’s not ready,” I said at last.
“Not ready for what?”
“To come out.”
There was no reaction. Matt’s expression was unreadable. Somehow, that made it worse. If he’d offered sympathy or outrage on my behalf, it might have been easier. Instead, there was nothing but cold, hard contemplation.
I turned away from his analytical stare and sank slowly onto a chair at the kitchen table. My teacup from that morning was still at my space, possibly the only one of my dishes to survive the onslaught.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Three weeks ago. Sunday.”
Matt pushed off the counter and crossed my tiny kitchen in two long strides, his cowboy boots crunching through the remains of my shattered plates and bowls. He took the chair opposite me.
“Lamar, I need you to put your emotions aside for a minute and tell me what your gut says. Could he have done this?”
“No.” It came quickly. No hesitation. “It’s not him.”
Matt sighed in frustration. “Okay. Then we need to go back to the question of who’s had access to your keys. Have you given them to anyone? A repairman?”
“No.”
“Cable or satellite TV installer?”
“No.”
“No relatives?”
“No.”
“Neighbor? Coworker? Cleaning woman?”
“No, no, no.”
“Have you let anybody borrow your car?”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, an alarm sounded. It was faint and imprecise, but it was there. “No….” I said. But I turned toward that mental notification. I focused on what had caused it.
My car.
“Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Matt said, leaning eagerly across the table.
“Dominic’s brother, Dimitri. I had to give him my keys at the garage.”
“Your house key too?”
“I handed him the entire ring. Then, when Dominic picked me up, he gave them back to me. They’d taken the car key off, and he returned the rest to me.” I clenched my eyes shut, refusing to believe it. “It can’t be Dominic.”
“It might not be,” Matt said. “But you’ve given me a place to start.”
He stood up from the table, and I looked up at him in surprise. “You don’t think it’s Dom?”
“I don’t,” he said. “But I think he’s the key to all this. No pun intended.” He glanced around at my house. “I’ll change your lock first thing in the morning. I could do it now, but I’m kind of curious if this guy will come back around tonight. If he does, we’ll be waiting for him.”
I nodded, standing up as well. “I suppose I should pack a bag for the night. Assuming I can find a bag. But I have no idea where to go.”
“Why don’t you go to Angelo’s?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
He laughed. “Are you kidding? What’s your other option, a hotel? He’d never forgive me.”
“But—”
“Here. I’ll prove it.” He pulled out his phone and hit a button.
I sighed, torn between laughter and exasperation. “I don’t want to be any troub—”
He held a finger up to silence me. “Hey,” he said into the phone. “Somebody broke into Lamar’s house today. He needs a place to stay until sometime late tomorrow morning. He’s talking about checking into the hotel, but—”
He stopped short, grinning at me. I could hear Angelo on the other end of the line—not his exact words, but his tone. He was obviously giving Matt attitude.
“Uh-huh,” Matt said, winking at me. “Uh-huh. Okay. Got it.”
He clicked off and said to me, “That went along the lines of, ‘Jesus, Matt, don’t be stupid. You’re a fucking idiot for even asking, and I can’t believe you’d let Lamar go to a hotel. Tell him he can stay with us as long as he wants.’ And then he threw in a few more f-bombs, just for good measure.”
“You guys are friends, right?”
“Of course. He finished with, ‘And by the way, you’re my hero, and I want to be exactly like you when I grow up. I take back every bad thing I ever said about you.’”
“Right.”
He shrugged. “It was subtext.”
Strange how after everything that had happened, I could still laugh.
DOMINIC
TO SAY I was miserable after breaking things off with Lamar would be an understatement. Spending the day with Lamar and Naomi, sharing something as simple as a few laughs at a petting zoo and an evening carving horrifically misshapen pumpkins had given me a taste of something great, and now it had been pulled out of my reach. I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, as if the ghost of Christmas future had granted me a glimpse of a life in which Lamar took his place at my side, a life where Naomi accepted it as easily as she’d accepted the challenge of the corn maze. But it was a pipe dream at best. Naomi could never know that Lamar was anything more than a friend. Her schoolmates and cousins couldn’t know I was unfit to be her father. My family could never k
now how close I’d come to losing it all.
I worked my shifts at the garage in silence, keeping to myself. No more afternoons spent at Coda’s makeshift YMCA. No more watching football games with men who were stronger and bolder than I dared dream to be. There was only this: my father was smiling at me again, Junior had run out of rumors, and my daughter would never know my oldest secret.
Thanksgiving crept nearer. Elena and I had finally agreed to Naomi’s pleas to have our dinner at my house. My parents took my newfound independence better than expected, but my joy at the coming holiday season was negligible. Visions of cooking dinner with Lamar at my side haunted me, leaving me forlorn. I wondered if he’d eat dinner with his aunt and uncle, or maybe fly to Florida to be with his parents, or if he’d spend the day with Zach and Angelo. I wondered if his stalker was still harassing him.
I hated not knowing. More than anything, I hated that I’d given up my right to know.
Dimitri took every opportunity to work next to me during the day and talk to me, showing me his unwavering support as long as I continued to do what he asked. He never said it aloud. We hadn’t spoken of it even once since that one horrible afternoon, but I sensed the ultimatum lurking between us, stalking our conversations, tainting our fraternal interactions. “The elephant in the room,” as the cliché went. Only this elephant not only took up emotional space, it drained my will to move forward from one day to the next. I had one of my rare Fridays off and spent it slumped on the couch, staring into space until Naomi came home from school.
“Dad,” she said, plopping down on the other end, “you’re not actually watching this, are you?”
I blinked, focusing on the TV. I’d started out watching Beverly Hills Cop, but it had apparently ended. Whatever was currently airing seemed to involve a lot of crying Southern women.
“No,” I said.
“Is Mr. Franklin coming over tonight?”
I winced. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“He’s… busy, I guess.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I looked at her. I’d nearly had a coronary when she’d walked in with blue hair after an evening at her Aunt Jen’s house, but I’d grown used to it quicker than I expected. It contrasted nicely with the deep tones of her skin, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Especially not when we went anyplace together, and I felt the judgmental stares of all the other parents we passed.
Still, blue hair and bad parenting or not, I needed to get away from my four walls. “How about if we go out to dinner, Snowflake? Just the two of us?”
She smiled. “Okay. If it’ll make you feel better.”
My phone rang ninety minutes later, as Naomi and I were leaving the China Palace. I didn’t recognize the number on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Dominic, it’s Matt Richards. Where are you?”
His brusque tone surprised me. After spending an afternoon in a social setting with him, I’d sort of assumed we counted each other as friends now, but the harsh edge of his voice suggested otherwise. “My daughter and I just finished dinner. Why? What’s going on?”
“We need to talk. How soon will you be home?”
“Ten minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.” The line went dead without so much as a “see you soon.”
“Great,” I mumbled as I pocketed my phone. “That can’t be good.”
“What is it, Dad?” Naomi asked.
“A police officer is waiting at home to talk to me.”
“What about?”
“I guess I’m about to find out.”
As I drove, I pondered the possible reasons for Matt’s demand to see me. The first possibility was something had happened to Elena or somebody else in the family, but I quickly dismissed it. I would have heard from somebody else by now if that were the case, and although Matt had been insistent, he hadn’t indicated it was an emergency. The next possibility was something had happened to Lamar. I chewed on that for a minute. Surely if Lamar had a problem, he’d contact me. Regardless of what had happened between us, Lamar would certainly call if he needed me.
Right?
I wanted to believe it, but it was a lie. Lamar probably wouldn’t call. Not after the way I’d ended things. I’d left him stranded after outright promising I wouldn’t. The realization left me with a sour stomach and a strange certainty that whatever was going on, Lamar was involved. My heart clenched in fear.
“You have homework to do, right?” I asked Naomi as I turned onto our street.
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
She sighed in dramatic teenaged exasperation. “In other words, you want me in my room while you talk to the cop.”
“Perceptive as always.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, you know.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Whatever.”
As promised, Officer Matt Richards was waiting for us when we pulled into our driveway. If I’d thought he was unfriendly on the phone, it was nothing compared to the cold reception I received upon greeting him. Any lingering hope this might be a social call vanished in an instant. I ushered him inside. Offered a beer and a seat, both of which he refused. Finally, after the door to Naomi’s bedroom slammed shut and her stereo kicked on in high volume, I perched on the edge of my kitchen table and crossed my arms.
“All right. I’m here. What’s going on?”
“Did you work today?”
“No. It was my day off. Why?”
“You were home all day?”
“Yes.”
“Can anybody vouch for that?”
“No. Why?”
“Your family owns Jacobsen Auto Repair?”
“You already know they do.”
“Are all your employees related to you?”
“At the moment, yes. Why? What’s this about?”
He took out his notebook and a pen. “Who all’s employed at the garage?”
His game of twenty questions pissed me off, but I knew losing my temper would get me nowhere. “My father owns it. My brother Dimitri and I run it. A few of my cousins work for us. Frank and Lenny Jacobsen, Junior Hernandez, and Julio Sandoval. Why?”
“How many of them were working today?”
“I don’t know!” I said, voice rising. “Like I said, I wasn’t there. Why? What the hell is this about?”
He straightened his shoulders and kept his gaze locked on me as he finally answered. “It’s about Lamar. Somebody trashed his house. You have any idea who that could have been?”
The words caused me to deflate. I’d suspected Lamar would come up, but having it verified in such a blunt fashion left me feeling powerless. “What do you mean, they trashed it? Like, tore up his yard? Broke a window?”
“I’m talking about damage done inside his home. Dishes broken. Drawers upended. That kind of thing.”
“Oh my God. They broke in?”
“No,” he said, and I noticed how closely he monitored my reaction. “This person definitely had a key.”
I reeled, scrubbing my hands through my hair, thinking of Lamar, wishing I could run to him and offer some kind of support, but I’d burned that bridge. “And you think it was me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Was it?” he asked. “Lamar doesn’t think so, but I can’t help but wonder.”
“Look,” I said, dropping my hands and standing to face him. “I had nothing to do with it. You can accuse me all you want, but I didn’t do this. I didn’t break in. I didn’t trash his car. I have no reason to hurt him.”
“No reason but keeping your history with him quiet.”
I glanced toward the hallway and Naomi’s room. Her door was still closed. The bass from her stereo thumped dully through the house. “You’re right,” I conceded. “I want that kept quiet. So why in the world would I cause this kind of trouble for him? Why would I do anything to bring angry cops knocking on my door?”
“No.”
“Do you know anyone who does?”
It seemed like an odd question. “You mean other than Lamar? No. Why would I?”
“Because the only time he can remember relinquishing his keys to anybody was when the tow truck driver from your garage picked him up.”
The garage.
Lamar’s keys.
I remembered getting them from Dimitri on that very first day.
I sank slowly back to the edge of the table, feeling as if my legs might not hold me.
“My brother had Lamar’s keys.”
“Your brother?” Matt asked, scribbling in his notebook. “Dimitri, right?”
“Yes.”
“And how much does he know about Lamar?”
Good question. If Matt had asked me a month ago, I would have said nothing. Now? “I’m not sure, to be honest. He knows about….” I sighed and lowered my voice. “He knows about me. Kind of. He knows I was seeing Naomi’s teacher, but whether or not he knows that’s Lamar, I don’t know. And he knows I spent an afternoon at Zach and Angelo’s house. He’s….”
“Yes?” Matt prompted.
“He doesn’t like it,” I admitted. “He freaked out. Said I was going to tear our family apart if I wasn’t more careful.”
“And then what?”
“I broke things off with Lamar.” It was strange how hard it was to say those words, and how much it hurt to admit it. Matt’s expression was unreadable, but I imagined he was appalled by my weakness.
“So, Dimitri knows about you and Lamar, and he doesn’t like it, and he had Lamar’s keys.”
“I know it sounds suspicious,” I said. “But he wouldn’t do this.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if Dimitri had a problem, he’d come at me with it, not Lamar.”
“What about your cousins or your dad? How much do they know?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. They might suspect. My cousin Junior….” And suddenly, it became clear. “He’s the one who towed Lamar’s car that day. He would have had access to Lamar’s keys, and he’s way more likely to do something like this than Dimitri.” The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it could be true. “He’s the one who saw me at Angelo’s and told my family. He made a huge stink about me hanging out with—” With the town fags. Those were the words my brother or Junior might have used, but I wouldn’t repeat them. “With all of you,” I finished weakly.