by Terri Thayer
I held my breath. I waited for Dr. Aldana to come racing in to see what the noise was.
Nothing. I breathed out. I pulled myself up slowly and put my ear to the partition.
The doctor was murmuring something comforting.
“You want to talk pain,” Ina/Harriet said. “Try twenty-four hours
a day, seven days a week. Shingles are the worst.”
I heard what sounded like acquiescence. The doctor was apparently wrapping things up. After two minutes.
Pearl’s voice came through. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to send all my friends to you. I know plenty of folks who could use your help.”
He’d be in here next. I wanted to get out of here before the doctor or Jessie discovered me. I opened the door and checked the hall. I dashed into the waiting room as Ross and Ashleigh came back, bringing with them a cloud of noxious fumes.
I sniffed the air. Had they been smoking funny cigarettes?
Ross pealed off from Ashleigh and greeted me.
“Your charges should be here any moment.” I lowered my voice. “Did you get what you needed?”
He nodded, watching Ashleigh take her place behind the desk again.
“You’ve got two of my favorite people in the world with you.” I grabbed his skinny tie. His eyes suddenly locked with mine, his cheeks turning bright pink.
I gave his tie a yank. “You’d better make sure nothing happens to them.”
_____
When I got back to the store the tile guys were nearly finished with the floor. Ursula said customers had been scarce.
No UPS. Lark’s books were not here yet.
All I wanted to do was go home and have a repeat of last night. Bath, Bubbles, Buster. Rinse and repeat. Buster would be up for it, I knew.
I was admiring the slate tiles I’d picked out for the bathroom when Buster came in the back door.
The scowl on his face didn’t bode well for another bath night. I left the tile guys to the grouting. Buster followed me into my office. He took Vangie’s chair, filling it in a way she never did.
“What’s up? Where’ve you been?”
“Work,” he said.
“Not going well?” I asked. He was too quiet. “Everyone from the drug bust make bail or something?
“No.” He picked up a pen and tossed it.
I grabbed the pen in mid-air. “Buster, what is it?”
I pulled his chair around so we were sitting knee-to-knee. “Tell me.”
“The medical examiner found a needle mark in Wyatt Pederson’s back.”
“His back?”
Buster nodded grimly, patting a spot near his shoulder. “He was given a fatal overdose. Murdered.”
I sat back in my chair. Wyatt had been killed. Vangie would be a suspect. Crap, crap, crap.
Buster nodded. “Freakin’ Zorn. He wants a piece of the Task Force glory. The way he sees it, if he can tie Wyatt to the drug dealing, if somehow we missed this big kingpin—“
“He could look like the big cheese.”
Buster nodded forlornly. He balled his hands into fists. “Damn that guy. He’s the only cop I know who wants the FBI hanging around. He’s really sucking up to them.”
“But if Wyatt was murdered … how does that fit in?”
“It has to be drug related, right? Wyatt gets killed because he pissed off some other dealer. Or someone wants his territory. Someone who got pinched by the bust. The bust is making a lot of people nervous.”
“What about Vangie?”
Buster hung his head. “Zorn’s not letting that angle go. He wants to talk to her again. He’ll hound her. He’s sure she knows something.”
I let that sink in. Vangie was not going to be free from this until the real killer was found.
“What does he think? That she’s some kind of drug kingpin?”
Buster didn’t answer.
“Buster?” I said, a knot tying itself in my stomach.
Buster rubbed my knees. “She’s not, right? She’ll be okay. It was genius that you got Larry Romanski to be her lawyer. He’s the most hated defense lawyer in the house. How did you swing that?”
I hesitated. Buster caught that and looked up.
“What?”
“He’s Freddy’s brother,” I confessed.
Buster threw his hands up. “Of course he is. No wonder I couldn’t stand Freddy. I knew there was something familiar about him.”
I pushed my chair back. “So you disliked Freddy because his brother is a defense attorney?”
Buster stood and shrugged. “Must have been subliminal. Remember that case I had last year? We’d had that dirtbag locked up for the hairdresser’s murder in Los Gatos. Remember? Larry the Lip was the one who got him out of jail. Next thing we know the hairdresser’s husband shoots the suspect and then kills himself in the movie theater parking lot. Horrible outcome.”
I googled Larry Romanski while Buster was talking. I knew the case he was talking about. He’d been really upset when it happened. I got to Larry’s website and found a picture of him.
“Huh … they do look alike,” I said, turning the computer around. “So all this time you’ve been looking at Freddy and being reminded of his brother?”
“Doesn’t mean Freddy’s not a jerk,” Buster said.
I laughed. “You don’t give up, do you Healy?”
My phone rang. I answered it while Buster gave me more lame reasons why he didn’t like Freddy.
“He’s pushy, and never shuts up.”
I mimed a duck’s beak. “Quack, quack.”
“Hello?”
“Dewey Pellicano?”
“Yes,” I said. How did a telemarketer get this number? I thought cell phones were exempt.
“This is Rita Estrada. Vangie’s mom?”
My heart skidded to a stop. I’d met Vangie’s mother over the years, but she’d never called me before. Never. I gulped in a breath, and grabbed Buster’s hand. Zorn must have arrested her.
“Vangie’s mom,” I whispered to him. He squeezed my hand. His face was creased with concern. I knew mine was too.
“Vangie was mugged. Someone hit her over the head and took her backpack.”
I held onto Buster’s fingers. I held the phone away so he could hear. “Is she okay?”
“She will be. She’ll be in the hospital overnight.”
“Which one? I’ll be right over.”
Rita said, “You won’t be able to see her yet. They’ve taken her for an MRI.”
My throat closed up at the thought of Vangie lying in a hospital bed, hurt.
“When did this happen? She was here this morning,” I said.
“About an hour ago. She was walking to school from her parking spot.”
“In broad daylight?”
“Yes, she said if it wasn’t for a bunch of students who walked by, she might have been hurt more.”
Rita’s voice caught and I felt my own voice falter. “I’m glad she’s okay,” I managed to squeak out. Buster stroked my face and I kissed his palm.
“Please give her a hug and a kiss from me. Call me if there’s anything I can do.”
Buster moved in, enveloping me as I hung up the phone. He held me. I let myself feel the horror of the random violence. His touch did his magic. I felt my heart slow down and the pit lodged in my throat dissolve.
“She’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
I pulled back from him. “That girl can’t get a break.” My tears spilled over.
Buster tilted his head. “You know there is an upside. Zorn will have to leave her alone, at least for now. If she has a concussion, he’ll have to wait until she’s more alert to question her. Her doctors—and Larry the Lip—will never allow it.”
“In that case, I hope she stays in the hospital for a week.”
_____
A nurse looked up from distributing pills into tiny cups when I got off the elevator at Vangie’s floor the next morning. I dodged a breakfast cart and found her room. Her gran
dmother was in the chair under the window, her head bowed, lips moving, a rosary traveling between her fingers. Her mom fussed, straightening the blankets, tucking in the sides, something Vangie would never tolerate if she’d been awake.
Her mother saw me first. “Dewey, come in.”
I walked through the room and embraced her. She let out a little sob. Vangie’s grandmother only nodded, her fingers flying. Vangie was racking up plenty of prayers. If Hail Marys healed, Vangie would be better by noon.
“How is she?” I touched the blanket by her knee gingerly. I didn’t have much experience with hospital visits. My family was healthy and my mother had died before she reached the hospital.
Vangie’s chest rose and fell with regularity but her eyes were closed and she was very, very still. I couldn’t remember seeing her so unmoving. Vangie was always a bundle of energy. “Is she unconscious?”
“Whatever they gave her knocked her out,” her mother said, swiping a hair from her daughter’s cheek. “She needs rest, according to the doctor. They’re worried about her brain swelling.”
That sounded awful. My throat tightened.
The room smelled like overly starched linens. The other bed in the room was empty with blankets and sheets piled on the end. A whiteboard on the wall at the end of her bed had Vangie’s name and today’s date on it. Her nurse this shift was Concheta.
“Have you two been here all night?” I asked.
Rita nodded. “I tried to get Mama to go home, but she refused. We wouldn’t have slept at home anyhow.”
I put my arm around Rita. The circles under her eyes were dark and deep. “Why don’t you go take a walk? Get some breakfast? Better yet, go home. Change your clothes. I can stay with her until you get back.”
Rita gnawed at her cuticle. Like mother, like daughter. “I did want to get Vangie some of her own pajamas and the hand cream she likes. Her skin is getting dry.”
She rubbed Vangie’s arms. Vangie stirred but didn’t wake up. “We won’t be long,” Rita said in a lilting tone to her daughter. “I just washed your favorite pajamas. I’ll bring them right back.”
“Thank you,” she said to me. “I know Vangie will be glad you’re here. She was asking for you last night.”
The pair left, although Grandma didn’t let go of her rosary, her lips moving as she walked.
I took in a deep breath. I walked to the window and looked out over the parking lot. Beyond, I could see the hills in the distance, brown with waving grass. In another month, when the winter rains began, the hillsides would start to turn green.
Vangie was in trouble. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that she’d been mugged the day before. Something was going on.
She’d been hanging around Wyatt and he’d been murdered. The police were looking at him as someone involved with drugs. My heart ached at the idea that Vangie might somehow be involved, too.
Behind me, I heard a groan.
“Vangie?” I rushed to her side. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m okay,” she said hoarsely. I grabbed the water glass and pressed the straw near her mouth. She turned her head away.
She opened her mouth again. Nothing came out but a croak. She reached up and touched the big bandage that covered her head. Vangie’s eyes widened in fear.
“You’re okay,” I said, pulling her hand away and rubbing it. “Your mother and grandmother were here. They went home for a few things.”
She blinked. “Friday,” she began. Her voice was weak. Her throat must be rubbed raw from some tube or another.
I held the straw steady and this time she drank.
“Wyatt—” she stopped and turned her head away from me. A tear trickled down her cheek. I wiped it away. She clawed at me.
“Vang … save your strength. We can talk later.”
“Listen. Drugs.”
Each word was a struggle. She was getting agitated, and noises came off her machines like annoyed birds.
“Lay back, Vang. Please. I know about Wyatt and his drugs.”
Vangie sank against the pillows. Concheta, the nurse, came in. She was a tall blonde.
She said, “Someone is awake, is she? It’s about time.” She set to work on the things Vangie was connected to, moving them to a mobile tether. “Okay, darling. Now that you’re up, we have plans for you. Tests and more tests. I know, nothing but fun around here.”
She moved quickly with authority. There was no room for debate. I stepped away as she came to my side of the bed.
She said to me. “You’re welcome to wait, of course, but she will be awhile.”
I was able to get in a quick squeeze of Vangie’s hand. I smiled at her, stretching it out. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll be back tonight.”
Vangie’s face was crumpled. “I’m sorry, Dewey. Sorry.”
The nurse hoisted her up into a wheelchair and the two of them went out of the room.
Why did I feel abandoned?
Nine
Freddy was as good as his word. He arrived at my QP right at nine. “Tell me the Lark Gordon books arrived.”
I shook my head. “UPS never came last night,” I said.
He frowned. “What have you got?”
I led him into the classroom. “Felix Scissors Company sent me a batch of special fabric snips. They’ve got blue plaid handles and are as cute as a button. What every quilter needs next to her sewing machine.”
I knew I was overselling, but I needed to believe we had good prizes.
Freddy said, “I’ve got twelve baskets in the car that contain threads and tape measures. That’s not going to cut it.”
“I stopped at Costco and bought some pens and sketch books. And dark chocolate Dove Hearts. That’ll fill the baskets up.”
Freddy glanced at his complicated watch. I was pretty sure he could predict earthquakes with one of those dials. “We need to get on the road.”
We loaded Freddy’s car with the scissors and Costco stuff. “Jim, my UPS guy, will be here soon,” I said, collapsing into the passenger seat. “He’s never later than 9:15. Then we can get moving.”
Freddy stood outside his car, tapping his fingers on the roof.
“I didn’t tell you what happened to Vangie last night,” I said. “She got mugged.”
“That’s horrible. Where was she? At school?”
“On her way to a class.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“She has a concussion. They’re worried about her brain swelling.”
“I heard they have good drugs for that. Vangie will be okay,” Freddy said. He was as anxious as I’d ever seen him. He couldn’t stop looking at his watch.He was making me nervous. We did have a lot of ground to cover.
“Get in,” I said. “If UPS won’t come to us, we’ll have to go to UPS.”
I directed Freddy to make a U-turn. I looked up and down the Alameda and didn’t see the brown truck. I sighed. We needed Lark’s books. They were the best prize we had.
“Turn here,” I said, directing Freddy down Naglee. I looked down the streets at the stately homes. Nothing. We drove past the junior high and the library. At Bascom, I told him to turn back.
Why did Jim change his route? Today of all days. We cut over on Race and got lucky.
“There!” I pointed behind a Mexican restaurant. I had my door opened before Freddy pulled into the parking lot, the Jag scraping the bumpy driveway.
Jim was surprised to see me, but gave up the shipment. I ripped open a box while Freddy rearranged his trunk to accommodate the new stuff.
“Score!” I yelled.
“Let’s go,” Freddy said. “Where’s the nearest freeway ramp? We’ll go to the farthest-away shop first and work our way back. Give me the address. I’ll feed it into my nav.”
I pulled out the cheery map and read off the street and the numbers. The nav went to work. According to it, our drive to Pacific Grove would take an hour and a half, meaning we’d get there around 11:00.
I studie
d the map. Now I was getting nervous. “We’ll never make it back to Half Moon Bay,” I said. That was miles north of here and we were heading south.
“I told you we had to get on the road earlier.”
“We must get to Barbara the Damp’s in Fremont. She’s up first thing tomorrow for the Twitter. And we’d better get to Barbara V’s before five. She’s already called twice.”
Freddy snorted. He checked his mirrors and changed lanes. “I say we leave Barb V to last. She’s pissing me off. Let her stew all day.”
His car hugged the guardrail. The Lexington Reservoir was low. I could see grass and the concrete remnants of the old road that had been abandoned when the reservoir was built.
“Are you sure we should be leaving her books until last?” I didn’t want to tangle with Barb V.
“She needs to be taught she doesn’t rule the world. We promised she’d have her Twitter basket in time for the Crawl. And she will.”
I leaned back in my seat. We were heading up into the Santa Cruz Mountains now, and the trees were getting denser and taller. Older. The treetops whizzed past. I let the fancy leather upholstery envelop me.
If we weren’t in such a time crunch, I could have enjoyed this break in routine. Freddy’s hands rested lightly on the wheel confidently. His eyes flitted from the side mirror to the rear view. He eased in and out of the lanes, slotting his Jag behind whoever was moving the fastest.
Route 17 was ten miles of climbing roadway with switchbacks and dangerous curves. It was the quickest way to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and the Pacific Ocean. I hadn’t been allowed to drive this road until I turned eighteen.
“When it’s my turn for the Twitter promotion, I’m going to cause a riot,” Freddy said, raising his voice over the roar of the engine as he downshifted. I’d never been in a car that rode so close to the ground and went this fast. Freddy’s driving was making me slightly giddy.
“Excuse me?” I said, trying to catch my breath as he steered through the treacherous Big Moody Curve. I was starting to understand the race car driver’s love of speed. I felt like I’d left the astral plain. Worries about QP, the Crawl, even Vangie, darling Vangie, were lifted off my shoulders and snatched by the wind.
I fought the urge to giggle as Freddy gave the gas pedal a goose. I leaned into the curve of the roadway.
