by Janet Dawson
I smiled back at him, my relief tempered by the thought of Dyese Smith’s uncertain future. Was she really one of the lucky ones? “Good news,” I said, my voice subdued. “But I feel so damn frustrated, to think of little children like Dyese and Mary, one abandoned, one dead of AIDS.”
Kaz shook his head, a fierce glow in his eyes. “I refuse to look at it that way. Dyese’s not abandoned. She’s got a foster home, with people who will take care of her. And this disease... someday we’ll have a cure. Until then we’ll treat it. Mary was five, but other kids live to be teenagers, doing all the things kids do. Whether it’s five years or ten, Jeri, there is life between now and then. We’ll make the most of it.”
He leaned over and kissed me. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate the New Year. New years are always full of possibilities.”
He took my hand. We walked the rest of the way to Ratto’s, to partake of the food and wine and champagne, to listen to the soaring voices of the opera singers.
I didn’t see tears in Kaz’s eyes, or feel them in mine, until we started singing “Auld Lang Syne.”
Afterword
IN WRITING NOBODY’S CHILD I USED MY OWN observations as well as written resources. Those include an article on Berkeley’s homeless population, “The Geography of Nowhere,” by Fred Setterberg (East Bay Express, February 25, 1994). I also used two sources that show very different views of homelessness. Particularly valuable for its thought-provoking opinions and historical information is A Nation in Denial by Alice S. Baum and Donald W. Burnes (Westview Press, 1993). Equally valuable is the memoir of a man who has been homeless and has written eloquently about his life on the road and streets. I highly recommend Travels with Lizbeth by Lars Eighner (Fawcett Columbine, 1993).
Much of the information concerning the Paramount Theater in Oakland comes from the book The Oakland Paramount, text by Susannah Harris Stone, photographs by Roger Minick, and preface by Peter Botto. There is, however, no substitute for being there; either at a performance or taking the tour with one of the knowledgeable guides.
Jeri Howard’s got another mess to figure out. Join her in
A CREDIBLE THREAT
by Janet Dawson
Available in eBook Format.
For a glimpse of this new novel, please turn the page...
A Credible Threat
by Janet Dawson
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE LEMON TREE?”
The woman stood in the uncarpeted foyer of the house on Garber Street, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
I glanced at Vicki Vernon, pacing like a restless tiger cat back and forth across the worn red and black Turkish kelim. Now she stopped, widening those golden-brown eyes that reminded me of her father.
“Sasha,” Vicki said, addressing the newcomer.
Sasha, still scowling, moved toward us. Tall and dark, with short, curly hair that set off the big gold hoops in her earlobes, she wore loose-fitting blue jeans, a purple turtleneck visible over the collar of her denim jacket. She carried a red nylon backpack slung over her left shoulder. Behind her I saw a little boy, about six, wearing baggy brown cords and a yellow sweater, a bright orange child-sized pack on his back. He stared at me with wide brown eyes, one hand cradling the ripped stem and torn petals of a pink tulip.
Sasha ignored me and fired words at Vicki. “What the hell happened to the lemon tree? And the rest of those plants? There’s dirt and leaves and flowers all over the porch and sidewalk.”
“Vandalism,” I said. “We think.”
Both of them turned to look at me. I’d been sitting at one end of the high-backed persimmon-colored sofa that faced the front windows, its bright upholstery clashing with the dark red of the carpet. Now I stood up. Vicki made the introductions.
“Jeri, this is Sasha Nichols, our landlady. Sasha, this is my... this is Jeri Howard. I told you about her.”
“The private investigator who used to be married to your father.” Sasha slipped the backpack from her shoulder and set it down next to the sofa. “Since when do you call a private eye to report vandalism?”
“Vicki tells me it may not be as simple as that.”
I’d had to sidestep potting soil, broken bits of clay, and the smashed remains on my way up the steps. Two azaleas and two hydrangeas had been ripped from their containers and shredded into debris. The pots were smashed against the porch railing. Tulips and daffodils, both bulbs and blooms, had been stomped to a messy pulp under someone’s feet.
Pulled from its pot, the lemon tree had been decapitated, its trunk chopped with an ax or a hedge cutter. The dark green top, with its tiny buds, was arranged on the wooden porch, the chopped-off end pointing toward the front door. The lower half sat alone in the middle of the front porch, resting lopsidedly on roots that bled potting soil.
At first, compared to the other plants, the lemon tree looked relatively unscathed. But on further examination I decided that it had been singled out. Tossed, like a gauntlet.
The destruction could have been committed by some random vandal who’d seen the plants as an easy target. Berkeley certainly had its share of crime, no more immune to the underbelly of modern life than its neighbor, Oakland. But I didn’t think so. The mess littering the front of the house looked more like a calling card than an impulse.
Who was leaving the message? And why?
A Credible Threat
by Janet Dawson
Available in eBook Format.
About the Author
JANET DAWSON’S first Jeri Howard novel, Kindred Crimes, won the St. Martin’s Press/Private Eye Writers of America Best First Private Eye Novel Contest. It was nominated for Shamus, Anthony, and Macavity awards in the Best First Novel category. In addition to the Jeri Howard series, she has written numerous short stories, including Macavity winner “Voice Mail,” and Shamus nominee “Slayer Statute.” For more information on Janet Dawson and her books, check her website at www.janetdawson.com.
