Nell got back in the car, slamming it closed with a loud bang.
“OK, can we go now?”
“Sure,” said Nikki.
The ride into town was silent and awkward. Nell seemed constantly on the verge of saying something, but never did. It was the conversational equivalent of almost sneezing, but having the sneeze dissipate at the last moment.
Nikki pulled up in front of the motel. Run down seemed too polite a term for the mega-crap show that was this motel. It didn’t even have a name—the neon sign out front just read “otel.” The M was burnt out and didn’t look likely to be replaced. There was a cop car in the parking lot, but that didn’t seem like much of a surprise.
“What are we doing here?” asked Nell looking around.
“I have a friend who got into a little bit of trouble,” said Nikki. “I’m going to pick her up and take her back to the farm.”
“She needs to tell the guy to man up and marry her,” said Nell.
“What? No, Mom. Not that kind of trouble. She just needs a place to stay for a day or so until Donny can help her straighten things out. Anyway, stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”
Nikki jogged up the stairs to the second floor landing, trying not to touch the rickety Rat Pack era railing that looked nearly rusted through. The motel was shaped like an “L” and as she counted down the numbers on the doors, she realized that room seventeen would be near the bend in the “L”. She looked down the length of walkway and felt her stomach sink. The door straight ahead of her was already open. Nikki stretched out her stride, trying to hurry without running. She slowed down as she approached, missing her gun again. The room had been tossed, the mattress was off the bed and cut open, the picture with its sad, faded rural scene had been ripped from the wall. Clothes were scattered everywhere. And by the bed lay Ylina. Her hair was wet and lay in dark strands across her wide-open eyes. Nikki stopped and stared at the body, trying to decide what to do next. Her eyes flitted around the room, trying to avoid Ylina’s accusing stare, but always returning to it. Her pants were dry, but her top was wet. There were bruises on her neck. She was missing a shoe. Nikki didn’t see the shoe in the debris.
There was a sound from within the room and Nikki tensed, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. Then the sheriff stepped out of the bathroom. For a second he froze, clearly surprised to see her.
“Miss Lanier, what are you doing here?”
“I was looking for Ylina,” said Nikki.
“Apparently, someone else found her first,” said the sheriff, gesturing to the body. “Strangled her, and drowned her in the bathtub last night.”
Nikki looked at the body again and then around the room. She didn’t see the duffel bag that Ylina had been holding at the junkyard.
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t see how that is in any of your business. Just what’s your interest here, Miss Lanier? You seem mighty interested in some girl you bumped into at a bar.”
“Nikki, what’s taking so long? Tell your friend not to pack anything, because we’re only going to want to burn it after it’s been here.”
Nikki turned around, trying to block her mother from seeing the body, but it was too late. Nell’s hands flew to her mouth, holding in a scream, and her eyes went wide.
“Well, hello, Nell,” said the sheriff.
Nikki watched her mother’s eyes drift from the body up to the sheriff. She was surprised at how quickly their expression shifted from horror to hatred.
“This is a surprise. I’m investigating a crime,” said Merv, his eyes flicking from Nell to Nikki and back. “That’s my job, after all. But the question I’d like answered is: what are you and your daughter doing here?
“You stay away from my daughter,” said Nell. “Or so help me I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” asked the sheriff quietly as he took a step closer.
Nell backed up.
“Maybe you should tell your daughter to go back to LA where she belongs. Now I suggest both of you leave before I arrest you for interfering in a police investigation.”
The sheriff slammed the door in their faces and Nell immediately turned and headed for the car, pulling Nikki with her.
August XXI
Truthiness
Nikki drove until her mother held up her hands as if signaling surrender. “Pull over. Pull over. Pull over.”
Nikki did as she was told, and Nell dashed from the car into the long grass in the drainage ditch and upchucked her breakfast. Nikki sat on the hood and waited for Nell to finish. When Nell began to stagger back in her direction, Nikki fished in the glove compartment and pulled out the pack of wet wipes and the flask of vodka. The car had come to her that way, and Nikki had seen no reason to discontinue stocking Val’s emergency kit.
Nell wiped her face and socked back a long gulp of vodka. “That girl was really dead.”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so calm about it?” demanded Nell, her fist crumpling the wet wipes.
“Well, as you used to say, crying won’t fix the situation.”
Nell gaped at her. “That’s not what—I didn’t mean it about things like this.”
Nikki shrugged. “It’s still true.”
“No, no it’s not. That girl—someone killed that girl. Someone snuffed out her life like it was nothing. You’re supposed to get upset about things like that, Nikki!” Nell dropped the flask and wipes and grabbed Nikki’s shoulders, shaking her.
Nikki removed her mother’s hands, holding her by the wrists. “I don’t get to be upset, Mom. I have to think of what to do next.”
Nell stepped back, seemingly bereft for words. “Sometimes I don’t think I even know you anymore.”
Nikki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mom, I think the real question is, did you ever know me?”
“Yes, yes I did! We used to be close.”
Nikki laughed. “When? When was this mythical time?”
“When you were younger. Before your father left. We used to be best friends.”
“Yeah, you made it pretty clear to him that it was just the two of us and then surprise! He left.”
“That isn’t what happened!”
“Really? Then tell me what happened. What really happened to make Dad leave?” Nikki knew this wasn’t the time for this conversation. Not that there had ever, in the history of her life, been a right time for this conversation, but anything was better than thinking about Ylina and her wide staring eyes.
Nell’s lips pursed in a way that made her look surprisingly like Peg.
“Spit it out, Mom. Whatever it is you want to say, just spit it out. I don’t really have time for this.” Nikki waited, and Nell opened her mouth then closed it again. “Nothing? There’s a shock.” Nikki turned to get into the car.
“He went to prison,” said Nell. Nikki rotated back to look at her mother.
“What?”
“When we got pregnant with you we were broke and his mother had disowned him for marrying me.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So we moved in with my parents, and he liked it. But he knew I hated it. And we could never seem to save up money to move. Every time we got cash together something would happen—the car, the dentist, whatever. So he decided to do the one thing he was really good at.” Nell’s words were tumbling out rapidly now as if she was in a hurry to get them out and away from her. Her hands clasped to each other, clenching and unclenching.
“What was he really good at?” asked Nikki.
“Smuggling,” said Nell. “He bought a car off Crazy Cooter. Then he fixed it up with some sort of secret compartment, drove it into Canada and picked up some pot. But after the first couple of times he started to worry that he was getting recognized. So then he started taking out some engine part and having a tow truck drive it back, so that if the car got stopped at the border he wouldn’t be there, but also the tow-truck driver couldn’t be held accountable. He sold the pot and the car to a biker
gang in Oregon.
I wanted to move then. That was a lot of money. But he said it was easy, and that if he did it a few more times we could move without having to find jobs right away. And then he said if we saved a little longer we could move and buy a house straight away. And it was only pot, so I figured what harm could it do?”
“He got caught?”
“Sort of,” said Nell, her nose wrinkling in unhappiness. “He was starting to have to get creative. He’d drive across the border in one location and have it brought back in another. And he’d change up his hair style. Anything to keep the border guards from noticing that he traveled back and forth a lot. And then Merv Smalls started sniffing around. He was a Sheriff’s Deputy then. He was certain your father was smuggling, but he couldn’t ever figure out how he was doing it.”
“So what happened?” Nikki couldn’t believe her ears. It was as though her mother was rewriting history with every word, blotting out the past and redrafting it with a new and entirely unfamiliar plot. At the same time, the new version explained so many half-heard conversations and odd moments in her childhood.
“One day, Merv pulled him over and arrested him for having marijuana, just enough for intent to distribute and prison time.”
“Merv planted the pot?” asked Nikki.
“He had to have,” said Nell. “Your father never would have had that kind of crap pot on him.”
“So Dad didn’t leave. He went to prison. And you just told me he left?”
“Well, what was I supposed to say?” asked Nell, wringing her hands.
“I don’t know. How about the truth?”
“I couldn’t! Merv said I should leave town because your father’s contacts might come looking for his money and their pot. And I told him to go to hell and that your father was innocent, but secretly I knew he was right. That gang he sold to—they were not nice people. So I took the money and moved us to Seattle and your father got extradited to a prison in Canada.”
“Oh, my God,” said Nikki. “How could you not tell me this?”
“Well, I knew that if I told you, you’d only want to go visit him and then you’d want to try to prove he was innocent, which you know, technically he was, but not exactly. But you would have wanted to solve the mystery. I let you read too much Trixie Belden as a child. I think it went to your head. But if you solved it, what would you have thought of your father then?”
“So instead you let me believe that dad left us? You couldn’t say that he joined the Peace Corps or something?”
“Oh. Well, no. I didn’t think of that.”
“When did he get out? He was there for Grandma’s funeral. He must have been out by then. Why didn’t he tell me at the funeral?”
“He’d been out for several years, I think,” said Nell with a shrug. “We got divorced while he was in prison. And after he got out, he just bummed around. I told him not to tell you because what was the point? He couldn’t be bothered to show up and be a normal father, so what was the point of hurting you?”
Nikki wanted to shout or scream or punch something. She rubbed her hands through her hair and then threw them up in the air, slapping them down at her sides with a resounding smack. “I can’t believe you never told me.”
“Well, after we moved to Seattle –”
“And bought a house with his drug money.”
“I thought I would tell you, but you were still young. And you had that habit of talking to people and telling them things. I didn’t want anyone investigating us. It was just easier. And I kept meaning to tell you as you got older, but it never seemed like the right time.”
“And now’s the right time?”
“Well, my mother kept saying she was going to tell you if I didn’t.” Nell’s lip pouted out in irritation.
“Wait, that’s what you’ve been fighting about telling me? Not Grandma’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” Nell smiled awkwardly, then frowned. “What do you mean, ‘Grandma’s boyfriend’?”
“Oh, my God,” repeated Nikki. She put her hands on top of her head and took a deep breath like she’d been running. “Oh, my God, Z’ev totally knows.”
“He can’t know,” said Nell dismissively.
“Of course, he knows! I’m sure he ran a background check on me. No wonder he gives me that weird look every time I say ‘Dad left.’”
“Your boyfriend ran a background check on you?” Nell look horrified.
“Of course he did! He works for the… government. He’d be an idiot not to make sure I wasn’t a Russian spy or something.”
She walked around the car, hands on her head. “This is so embarrassing. Jane probably knows. She must have looked me up at some point. How could she not tell me?”
“Why would Jane know?” demanded Nell. “Frankly, I wonder about that girl. She doesn’t seem very bright.”
“Jane is a Mensa member,” said Nikki. “And she didn’t just squeak in. She’s smarter than the next twenty people you’ll meet. Probably the next one hundred. The reason she’s socially awkward is that she spends the majority of her time trying to figure out what’s wrong with us Neanderthals. And Mother, I swear to God, if you say another word about one of my friends, I will slap you.”
“I don’t think I like your attitude,” said Nell, folding her arms across her chest. “You constantly take their side. I am your mother. You are supposed to be on my side.”
Nikki felt one of the tiny muscles in her eye twitch involuntarily.
“When you are on my side, maybe I will be,” she said. Then she climbed into the car, slamming the door, and started the ignition.
“You are not going to—” began Nell, but Nikki had already hit the accelerator. The gas guzzling engine roared to life and launched her back onto the road, leaving Nell coughing on a cloud of dust.
August XXII
Regrets, I Have a Few
Nikki drove north for twenty minutes, ostensibly fleeing for Canada, but mostly just fleeing. As she left the farms and ranches behind, the Colville Forest closed in around her. The soothing monotony of pine merged with the hum of the road under the tires and the chug of the engine. She rolled down the window and let the wind buffet around the car, drowning out the sound of the radio and everything but her thoughts.
A few more pine trees passed and finally she pulled over in the barest scrap of shade caused by a straggly evergreen. The engine clicked as it cooled. She found that in times of stress her thoughts would turn to her old partner. Val Robinson had been forty-something, sophisticated, and easily the coolest person Nikki had ever met, but her take-no-prisoners, keep-no-friends philosophy had been a shock.
Nikki closed her eyes and leaned her head back, stretching out her neck. “I’m starting to think you weren’t that crazy, Val,” she said to the empty car. Talking to Val’s ghost in her car was becoming a bad habit. Val’s ghost never said anything useful in reply. Usually she smoked a cigarette at Nikki and said something useless, like “I told you so.” Nikki took a few deep breaths and then reached for her phone.
“Hi,” said Jane, picking up. “Did you get Ylina? Are you on your way back?”
“Jane, why didn’t you tell me about my father?”
“What about your father?”
“Why didn’t you tell me my father went to prison?”
“Your father’s in prison?” Jane sounded shocked. Which meant, since Jane was an even worse liar than Nikki, that Jane was truly shocked.
“Jane, have you ever run a background check on my family?”
“No, why would I do that? It would be rude to do that to my own team. I have very clear ethical boundaries about data usage, you know.”
Nikki sighed, and rubbed her temple with her free hand. She did know. This job was making her suspicious of everyone. Suspicious and cranky. And hungry.
“Nikki, what’s going on?” asked Jane.
“I don’t really want to cover it on the phone. I need you to do a few things for me.”
“OK,�
�� said Jane.
“I need you to tell Grandma to go pick my mom up. I left her out on Old Kaniksu Road.”
“You left your mom?”
“Yes. We’re not going into it.”
“OK, telling Peg to go get Nell. What else do you need?”
“I need you to borrow Z’ev’s rental car and come meet me at the library.”
“OK,” said Jane, from the shift in her voice, Nikki could tell that Jane was already moving. “Should I get the girls?”
“No, just you, I think. The library only has two microfiche machines.”
“No problem. What else?”
“Bring a sandwich. I’m starving.”
“Got it. See you in a few.”
The line went dead. “See, Val?” said Nikki to the resident ghost. “Friends are useful. I can rely on them.”
The Kaniksu Falls Public Library looked like it had been designed by Mr. Brady from the Brady Bunch, clad in vertical wood siding, painted beige, and faced with a peculiar multi-colored slate. For the last decade, the library had been run by a series of dedicated librarians who attempted to lure the town’s population of loggers and farmers into reading through events and community outreach. It was working. There were three separate book clubs, a movie club, and a youth garden, whatever that was. A bulletin board inside the lobby announced that this month’s General Fiction Book Club was continuing their Banned Books series by reading The Handmaid’s Tale.
“Have you read The Handmaid’s Tale?” The librarian’s nametag proclaimed her to be Bronwyn Tully. She was tiny, with a brown bun, a hemp skirt, and a pair of Birkenstocks.
“Yes,” said Nikki. “I didn’t like it. The main character was too passive. But it’s very,” she paused, and redirected her sentence. “Are you really getting any men to read it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Bronwyn. “Our group is actually about fifty percent male. Besides next month we’re reading a Raymond Chandler. The trick is to keep the reading list lively. And, of course, to serve cookies.”
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