Miguel Alvarez opened the file that was thick with Post-It notes of every color. Grabbing onto the closest goldenrod colored note he separated the pages and looked at the mug shot of Darius Lovelle. There was nothing loving about the appearances of the man who was Jojo’s stepfather. Dark circles dug in deep under huge brown eyes tinted with red broken blood vessels and overhung by heavy lids. Lovelle’s general expression was contemptuous and without care. When Miguel interviewed Joseph he indicated his step-father was angry with him because he failed to pick-up a package Lovelle had sent him to retrieve. The boy didn’t know what was in the package. He had been told to wait for it in the alley behind a shoe store on 4th street, but swore that no one ever showed up to give him anything so he went home.
Miguel went with the caseworker to retrieve Joseph’s things from the apartment where he lived with his stepfather. The boy came out of his bedroom carrying a clear rectangular box in one hand while dragging his clothing in a pillowcase with the other.
“What do you have in there?” Miguel had crouched on the floor in front of the boy to look inside the container. “It’s Dumbo, my teacher’s snail.” Joseph didn’t offer the detective a closer look.
“Don’t you have anything else you would like to bring along?” Detective Alvarez asked. The boy hung his head low.
“No, just this.” The boy held the clear box closer to his chest. “I’ll be home soon,” Joseph replied.
Miguel was amazed at children’s desires to stay in the home even if it was an uncomfortable or dangerous place. He figured it had something to do with the need to feel loved by their parents or, perhaps, a reluctance to give up their role as caretaker for their parents. Joseph’s teacher had referred his case to the Department of Human Services and Detective Alvarez. After he met with Joseph at school he explained to the teacher how the boy tried to convince him that the bruises had been sustained in a bike crash.
“Let’s face it, officer,” Karen Bradford explained it the way she saw it, “what are his prospects in foster care? How can he trust anyone in an official capacity when the closest thing he has to family has let him down?” It made sense to Miguel Alvarez. Having been raised in a loving, supportive environment, Detective Alvarez felt he had something to offer and was glad to take Joseph in for a while.
Miguel searched through his notes on the facing page and copied the name of the shoe store where Jojo said he had waited. Looking up the address online, he decided to stop by the shop and ask if they had noticed any unwanted presence on the street or behind the shop. Maybe they could identify Darius or provide additional information. Alvarez was determined to shut down not just the end points but also the entire ring that would use kids to run illegal drugs and money, or whatever was in the box that idiots believed was important enough to hit a child.
Pause, pause, pause…
Amelia rounded the corner of 4th and Vine for the third time, which ended up being the charm, providing her a parking spot right in front of the door of Des Shoes, David’s European Shoe Store. Praying she had been right that David would not be at the store at 10:00 in the morning she entered and walked directly to the hiking boots she wanted. She scanned the shelves for the Weathermax full-grain leather shoes with waxed stitching. Remembering the informational insert she found in the shoebox on her previous visit, she knew the hiking shoe sported a vegetable-tanned, metal-free leather insole made with perforated felt to ensure good air circulation.
“Amelia?” The clerk smiled.
“Hello Shima.” Amelia smiled back into the dark eyes. Amelia’s relationship with Shima had always been slightly strained but today it felt as though chasms and valleys extended for miles between them. Amelia could see that Shima detected her animosity. She never had learned how to hide it with Shima. Then again, Amelia thought, how am I supposed to feel? It’s been three weeks since I broke up with David and I haven’t heard one word of consolation from her.
“Is there something I can do?” Shima asked.
Too little, too late, Amelia thought. Amelia found the hiking shoes on the shelf and picked them up.
“Do you have these in a size 7?”
“I would have to check.” Shima practically sneered in recognition of Amelia’s desire to put her in her place. The clerk disappeared into the back of the store and Amelia regretted being so short with her.
While she waited, Amelia’s eyes drifted over to the gold lamé shoes she and David had argued about. She moved toward them slowly. How could he have wanted her to take those? The open toe sandal featured a heel sling with a metal buckle and sparkling vines twining atop the straps. The tapered high heel would have lifted Amelia way off center. How does one balance on something like that? Amelia wondered. She looked down at her own practical loafers. Obviously she had gotten her shoe gene from her mother.
Picking up one of the sandals Amelia was suddenly flooded with a strange feeling of déjà vu. At once she felt lost and found, fearful and angry, hot and cold, dizzy and suffocated. She dropped the shoe on the floor and staggered back a step.
“I’ll get it.” Amelia looked down to see Shima reaching for the shoe on the floor. Shima recognized the shoe over which David and Amelia had fought in the store. She quietly placed the shoe back on its stand and extended the box of hiking boots toward Amelia. “These are more your style.” Shima acknowledged what she knew of Amelia’s taste in personal attire.
For a moment Amelia felt as if her eyes might fill with tears. She quickly focused her attention inside her handbag and produced her American Express card. “Please take care of it,” she asked, without trying on the hiking shoes. If they don’t fit, they won’t go to India. All she wanted at that moment was to escape the store and Shima.
Shima completed the transaction quickly and bagged the box for Amelia. Putting her hand on Amelia’s elbow, Shima walked her toward the door. “Send me a postcard from my home town.” Shima looked to see if Amelia acknowledged her comment. There was no eye contact. Amelia had never really explored Shima’s connection with India and she didn’t feel any interest now.
“I will.” Amelia couldn’t muster any more friendliness. She smiled weakly, quickly walked through the door, and popped the locks on her Mercedes SUV.
Pause, pause, pause…
As the doorknob pulled away from her hand and closed behind Amelia, Shima dazed into memories of her life on the train platforms of India. She had been living on the streets as an orphan for about 3 months after her mother disappeared, when she was abducted by two local men and taken to a room in the local hotel used by tourists.
Shima had heard stories about what would happen next. She had accepted it as her destiny. When the nuns from the local monastery had tried to save her from the inevitable future she faced, Shima fiercely resisted them. At age ten she believed she had done something to cause her mother to disappear. She didn’t want help from anyone. She was on her own.
When the man entered the room Shima felt her heart skip a beat. He looked so different from the local men who teased and cajoled her on the train platform. Her visitor was tall and looked elegant with smooth black hair, a dark gray suit, and neatly trimmed moustache. He towered over her and looked deeply into her eyes. As he did, she saw his eyes were wet with tears. Uncomfortable with this show of emotion, Shima had moved away, but he didn’t pursue her or ask her to do anything. Instead, he began by asking her age.
“Fourteen.” she lied, using the perfect English her mother had taught her.
“Really?” He seemed surprised and gave her a stern look.
“Ten.” She revised her answer, feeling much the same as when she disappointed a teacher in school.
“I thought so.” He nodded and paced a couple steps thoughtfully.
“Are you from the government?” Shima became wary of the purpose of the visit.
“No,” he replied. “I am from America.” Shima again resigned herself to the possibility of no good coming from this encounter. “I worked with the government awhil
e ago and that is why I have returned. I was looking for someone, but was unable to locate her. You remind me of her.”
“So?” she asked. “Who was she?”
“Just a friend.” The man answered and walked farther across the room to look out the window. “You are homeless?” he asked without turning around. Shima felt especially lonely standing in the middle of the large suite at that moment.
“No, I live with my friends,” Shima sputtered.
“At the train station.” Shima winced at the judgmental tone in his voice.
“Yes.” She jutted out her chin in an effort to look proud.
“Well little girl,” the man began, “I miss my friend very much and I was wondering if you might like to come home with me to America in her place?”
Shima was not prepared for this. She thought she might have to endure the man for a day, maybe a night, and then she could return to the station. The idea that he would take her away from all she knew was frightening to her. She thought of running from the room while the man had his back turned. But she knew her abductors could not be far away.
“I wish to adopt you as my daughter,” the man continued. “I will give you a good home and fine education in the land of opportunity.” He turned around and saw that she was alarmed. He crossed the floor and reached for her hand. She pulled away and he crouched down to her eye level.
“I have a daughter just a little younger than you. Her name is Amelia and she would love a new sister.” He tried to reassure Shima. She looked at him carefully. She surmised that this was a one-time offer and the next man would not be as kind.
The man reached for her hand again, and she allowed him to hold it. She waited for some sign of the abuse she had been experiencing around the train station, but there was none of it. At the same time she knew this wasn’t a decision she could make. If she had been abducted, then she was already bought and paid for. All she could do was hope for the best then, and she nodded that she would go with him.
As it turned out, Amelia had had not been thrilled that Shima had come home to be her sister. Shima never felt secure with the Bradfords. She spent her days simultaneously trying to fit in while resisting any inclination to care. Even after Jim Bradford’s death, she yearned for a sense of belonging in the place she would not call home.
Pause, pause, pause…
Detective Miguel Alvarez pulled past the Mercedes SUV and parked in front of it in a space reserved for taxis outside the shoe store. Amelia pulled away and glanced at the city police tags on the car.
Nice to be able to break the law when you’re the enforcer, she thought.
Miguel waited until the Mercedes cleared the side of his car and manually locked the doors as he exited his plain white Hyundai. When he walked through the entrance of Des Shoe, his dark eyes met with Shima’s. Miguel immediately detected distrust.
“Hello, I’m looking for the manager.” He was anxious to avoid posturing with the clerk and get down to business.
“I am the manager,” Shima tilted back her head and lowered her eyelids dismissingly as she glanced over the detective’s worn shirt and jacket.
“Of course. I am Detective Alvarez,” Miguel started again while showing his badge. “I am looking into allegations that there is drug running going on around this store. Have you seen anyone suspicious while you’ve been here?”
Shima bristled. Her days on the train platform had burned an unfading sense of distrust for authority figures in her attitude.
“Detective,” Shima glared at Miguel, “this store is posh. We are not in the business of monitoring what goes on in the alley.”
“So you have seen trafficking?”
“I didn’t say that. I would call the police if I saw anything suspicious. I have to think about the safety of the customers. It’s difficult to sell $300 shoes when people are afraid to come to your store.”
“I see,” said Miguel, looking around the store trying to determine which pair of shoes could possibly cost $300. “Is there anyone else I could talk to while I’m here?”
“There is the owner, but he will not be in for another two hours,” Shima put him off.
“Well then, I guess I’ll stop back later.” Miguel extended his card. “Will you see that he gets this and ask him to call me on Monday?”
“I suppose I can.” Shima looked at the card but didn’t take it, waiting for Miguel to place it on the countertop. “Good day, Detective.” Shima’s eyes moved deliberately from his eyes to the door as she impatiently raised her eyebrow.
“Thanks.” Miguel nodded, then thought, Thanks for nothing, as he left the store. Heading for his car, Miguel checked his watch. He could grab a bite to eat downtown before heading home. It’s not a good idea to meet with a lady lawyer on an empty stomach, Miguel told himself.
Shima watched as the detective pulled away from the taxi stand. She lifted the store’s portable phone to her ear. Shima pressed one button for a moment and speed dial completed the call. After a moment Shima began to speak slowly and deliberately with only the slightest hint of urgency in her voice.
“A detective from the police department just left. He was inquiring about what I know about drug activity in the area.” Shima waited. “Yes, that’s him.” She waited again. “He’s not in yet.” Waiting. “Twelve, I would imagine.” Listening. “Thanks.”
Shima hung up the phone and looked at it for a moment. She grabbed the detective’s business card from the counter, then crumpled it in her hand depositing it in the garbage can under the cash register.
Pause, pause, pause…
Trisha Jennings’ cell phone chirped in the handbag sitting on the chair next to her. She grabbed the phone and checked the number. Rolling her eyes she flipped the phone open and took the call.
“Trisha Jennings.” She answered the phone in a flat, informative tone.
“Hi Trisha. It’s Amelia.” Trisha plunged her fork into the leafy salad on the plate before her.
“Hi Amelia. I thought you would be getting ready to leave.” Veiled attempts to sound sweet were unsuccessful.
“I am,” Amelia replied. “I just wanted you to know that I talked with a…” Amelia paused as she checked the notes scrawled on the notepad of her palm while continuing to drive, “a Detective Alvarez this morning and I am going to meet with the little boy, Joseph, this afternoon.”
Trisha was instantly infused with anger. Amelia was forevermore handing her a case and then taking it back, oftentimes after she had done a significant amount of work. Then Amelia took the credit for the work. It wasn’t like Amelia was getting something Trisha should get. After all, Amelia was the owner of the firm. But that was largely because of her wealthy father. Trisha thought the clients should know who was really doing the job that was keeping them happy.
Typically Trisha would view pro bono clients as grunt work that she was well beyond. But hearing that Amelia was butting in on the child abuse case was icing on a two-tiered cake of unwanted interference.
“I met with the boy two days ago, Amelia. Has something new developed?” Trisha sounded defensive.
“Don’t take it personally, Trisha.” Amelia barely attempted to soothe Trisha’s always-too-easy-to-read contempt. “I just had to see him or my mom will be worried the whole time we’re in India.” Trisha wasn’t consoled even though the thought of Amelia spending her botched honeymoon with her mother instead of David Delaney brought a slight smile to Trisha’s lips.
“If you would like to come along that would be okay with me,” Amelia offered.
“I can’t Amelia. It’s Friday. I’ll be in the Pennington hearing all day.” Trisha had been in too many situations where Amelia showed up long enough to undermine her authority on a case only to leave her hanging without support.
“Oh.” The trial date had not shown up on Amelia’s calendar. “Well, I’ll call you afterward to let you know what I think.”
I’m sure you will, Trisha thought. “Just leave me a message and I’ll listen
to it when I get a chance,” Trisha exerted the little control she could find. Both women ended the call simultaneously without a single departing word.
Trisha second-guessed herself for only a brief moment before deciding everything would be in order and there was no need to change her plans. Everything was being handled professionally and there was no way Amelia could cause any real problems. Turning to her salad, Trisha picked up her knife and began cutting at the leafy lettuce. So she had lied about the Pennington case. That would be long forgotten by the time Amelia returned from India.
Pause, pause, pause….
As if she hadn’t seen it coming all along, Amelia suddenly felt her time was running out. Glancing at her watch she realized she had only two hours to collect Zeke and get him to the kennel, take Binga to Martin’s pet store for extra special care while she was gone, pick up her dry cleaning, and get all of the last minute shopping finished. Packing was another venture that needed to be squeezed in. She snapped open her cell phone and dialed the number of fate.
“Hi Mom.” Amelia took a deep breath as she silently reminded herself to be patient with her mom.
“Finally ready for a little help?” Karen Bradford didn’t mind sounding a little triumphant at this point. She had been counting backward from take-off, figuring their way through homeland security lines, long-term parking, and traffic to determine that they needed to leave for the airport by 4:00. The silence on Amelia’s end of the line sunk in and caused Karen to reconsider her tone.
“I mean you only have a couple hours if you’re going to see Jojo,” Karen tried to backtrack. The name Jojo stuck with Amelia for a moment and then cleared through her temporary irritation as the alternative name for Joseph John.
“Right you are mom. So can you still help me?” Amelia knew she needed the help, “I am thinking on the fly so it is in no way a complete list.”
Gold Lame' (That's le-mayy) (Gold Lame' Series) Page 13
