by Deany Ray
“Mom! What in the world? Can’t you move this over to the corner?”
She looked alarmed. “Oh no! That wouldn’t do.”
“Of course it would. Why not?” Welcome to the crazy house.
“Because of the chi! The chi!” Her eyes grew wide. “We can’t let the chi escape.”
The chi? I looked around the foyer. Had she gotten a new pet? What exactly was a chi? And why would a potted plant keep something called a chi from running out the door? Was this new pet kind of dumb?
As always with my mother, I was absolutely baffled.
She looked at me as if I were an imbecile. “Honey, if I moved this to a corner, there would be a clear path to the back door from the entrance of the house.”
Sometimes her explanations left me even more confused.
“Oh, but I think I’ve done it wrong.” All of a sudden she looked distressed. She moved the plant to a side table and pushed it against the stand. “I’ve changed my mind. We can’t leave this here. Because you should always leave an easy path for the chi to come into the home. But your dad will have to move this. It’s just way too heavy.”
“Mom! What is a chi?” I hoped it didn’t bite.
My mother stared at me as if I’d asked for the definition of a tree.
“Chi is energy. Relationships. And health. Chi is everything!”
All righty, then. I put down my duffle bag.
“Ta da!” My mother happily twirled and threw out her arm to indicate the dining room. That’s when I noticed that the room to my left had a brand new coat of paint.
“Very nice,” I said.
“Red is the Feng Shui color of 2016,” she cried. Then she whispered knowingly, “It’s the year of the fire monkey.”
“Hmm. Not the most pleasant sounding animal. But the dining room looks nice.” I kind of knew about Feng Shui. Arranging your furniture to bring good luck or something like that.
“I’ve got your room all fixed up. Your dad’s still at the diner. But run in and say hello to Brad. He’s in there on the couch.”
“You don’t say. I’m so surprised.” I rolled my eyes. My brother never left the couch except for meals and bathroom breaks.
“Oh, you hush,” my mother said. “Why, just last week he called out to the car wash, asked about a job.”
“All of that in one week? He must have been exhausted.”
“Positive thoughts,” she said with a note of reproach in her voice. She put a gentle hand up to my forehead. “Always think pretty thoughts, my love.”
Pretty thoughts were not what came to mind when I peeked in to greet my brother who was sprawled across the couch. “Hey, Brad. How’s it going?”
“Charlie! Yo!” His eyes stayed on the big-screen. Some sports announcer was screaming about how someone had thrown to third. Brad watched intently as if it really mattered whether someone caught a ball. If he paid that much attention to his work, maybe he could stay employed longer than a week. My brother’s jobs were even shorter lived than my few and brief romances.
My mother came running in with a jar that had a smoky smell. She handed it to me. “Take this to your room. White sage. It might fix your problem.”
“What problem would that be?”
She looked at me quizzically. “Well, honey, I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re the one who said…” I decided to give up. “Oh, just never mind.”
“The sage will bring good energy,” she said as she walked out of the room. “Hey, come on in the kitchen. I made those cookies that you like.”
That got my attention. My mother might be nuts, but her chocolate chip cookies were the best: the perfect mix of crunch and a melt-in-your mouth kind of sweetness. I headed toward the kitchen after glancing back at my brother, whose eyes were still glued to the screen although a commercial for toilet cleanser had replaced the announcer’s screams.
I set the pot of sage beside him. Not that I believed it could change someone’s “energy.” But on the off chance that it could, it belonged right beside my brother.
In the kitchen, my mother pulled the wrapping off a plate that was piled high with cookies. “Oh, and I cleaned your room,” she said merrily.
“Thank thuu tho muth,” I said through a mouthful of chocolate sweetness. Cleaned my room? Really? I was twenty-nine! Oh, well. What did it matter? I took another cookie.
My mother clasped her hands together in delight. “My Pilates class will be here soon. We’d love for you to join us.” She took great pleasure in teaching yoga and Pilates. Some of her clients looked too old to walk, let alone go through my mother’s rigorous routines.
The very idea of the oldsters in leotards made me reach for three more cookies. “Maybe next time, Mom. I think I’ll settle in, then maybe head to the diner, say hello to Dad.” Plus, I had orders to check in with the police chief here in Springston.
“Oh, your dad would love to see you,” she said, looking only a little disappointed that I would not be exercising with her group in the basement.
Upstairs, I put my clothes into the drawers and closets that still held bits and pieces of my teenage wardrobe: t-shirts from old concerts, the jeans I’d broken in just right. My mother had put fresh flowers on the dresser. Buttercups and pink carnations spilled out from a vase beside a picture from my high school graduation. My mother had dusted the dresser and shined the mirror; she’d lined up some old lotions and shampoos I’d left behind on other visits.
She was so happy when I came home. I knew that I should make an effort to come here a little more. It was a guaranteed migraine, though. Every single time.
***
Kingsley had told me to report at noon for a meeting with Chief Patrick Snow who headed up the police in Springston. I knew just where the office was. It used to be a tire store before they redeveloped the downtown and made all the buildings more upscale. My boss had filled Snow in on what was going on, and the chief thought it would be good for us to meet in person. Graywell would be there too.
I pulled up to the small brick building and walked into a sparsely furnished area that served as a reception room. A rail-thin woman sat behind a desk. She looked somewhat familiar. Had she gone to high school with me? Most likely she had. Most of my former classmates were still in town, raising families of their own. I let her know that I had come for an appointment with Chief Snow. I glanced down at my watch: three minutes early, which was perfect. This job felt important, and I was determined to do everything just right.
Just then, an office door flew open and I heard the sound of laughter coming from the room. Graywell stepped out into reception and nodded curtly when he noticed me standing there. “I just finished things up with the chief,” he said. “But since you’re here, let’s step in for just a second and I’ll introduce you.” He ushered me into a large office. “Hey Patrick, this is Charlie,” he said to a man behind a desk. “Not sure if Kingsley mentioned it? That he was sending along a girl?”
Snow looked up and smiled. “Charlie, yes. Great to see you, Charlie. I understand that you grew up right here in our fair city.”
“Yes, sir. And I’m very glad to be here. I’m glad that I can help.”
“Well, I think we’ve got things all worked out, me and Graywell here.” He looked down at some papers on his desk as if, in his mind, he’d moved on already to the next part of his day.
“I was told to report at noon, sir. Any…thing that I should know?”
“Just do what Kingsley told you, and if you come up with any questions, you can always go to Graywell.” The chief looked up at me once again, this time with concern. “And be careful, honey. These drug dealers that we’re up against can be some scary kind of folks.” He frowned as if he were sending a toddler to take down the Mafia. Then he smiled. “You’ve come home just in time. The big fair is coming up. The ladies really love it.”
The fair? I was getting irritated, and I didn’t even have a cookie to help me make the feelings go away. “I’m here to
do a job, sir.” Kingsley, after all, was counting on my help. “If the perpetrators are in Springston, I’ll do my best to find them.”
I caught the two men glancing at each other. Was there a chuckle in their eyes? I hoped the dealers were in town, doing whatever dealers do, right there beneath our noses. Because that meant that I could catch them and show these guys a thing or two. Never mind that I didn’t know the first thing about drug investigations.
Outside the station, I turned to face Graywell. “Okay, catch me up. Anything else he wants us to do besides what we got from Kingsley?” We both looked around to make sure no one was listening.
Graywell ran his hand through his thick shock of gray and blondish hair. “Just go and visit with your friends. Catch up with your family.”
“Well, since I’m on assignment, I don’t think the only thing to do is visit with my friends. Tell me what Snow told you.” I gave him a hard look. “Kingsley put me on this case too. He didn’t just send you. That meeting was for both of us.” Despite the anger that I felt, I made sure to talk in a quiet voice.
“Look, Cooper, I’ve got things to do.” He fished his car keys from his pocket. “That’s why I moved the meeting up. Cause I’m anxious to get started. This case is high priority for the DEA.”
“And that’s why the captain sent me too.”
He stared me down. “I’ve got a plan. It’s dangerous. And I don’t need your help.”
I stared right back. “Kingsley thinks that you do.”
He lowered his voice. “We shouldn’t talk about this here. Somebody could be listening. And look, it’s cute you want to help. But you could get hurt. Real bad.”
Cute? Did he say cute?
“You don’t say?” I asked in mock surprise. “I had no idea that fighting crime might be dangerous. Well. I guess detectives everywhere should turn their guns in right this minute. Because, oooh, someone might hurt them! They should hurry home and pour themselves a great big glass of milk and curl up with a blankie where they will be safe.” I gave him a hard look. “Give me the info, Graywell.”
He looked at me, shocked at this new side of the quiet girl that sat in her cubicle everyday, pounding away at her computer.
“So,” I said. I was trying for a tone that was stern, authoritative. Anything but cute. “What else do I need to know?”
He looked anxiously toward his Honda like he had somewhere else to be. Guess he had to leave the BMW back in Boston. It didn’t look like anything that a barber might drive to his new job in Springston. I noticed he’d changed his look as well to go undercover. His khakis weren’t perfectly ironed, and scuffed boots had replaced his high-end dress shoes. He looked less like an uptight stuffy asshole and more like a regular person. He turned toward his car.
I was determined he wasn’t about to get out of there so fast. “Give me the update, Graywell. Since you decided it was okay to have the meeting without me there.”
He sighed. “Fine. There’s something you should know. And it’s the reason why I think these guys aren’t playing games – why we need to be real careful.”
“What did Snow say to you?”
He hesitated. “You know about the driver? In custody in Boston?
“Kingsley filled me in.”
“They let him out on bail.”
“Okay…”
“And two hours later, he was dead.”
“Oh…”
Dead. That did seem dangerous.
I took a good deep breath. “I’m heading to the diner,” I said in a small voice. “I’ll report in on what I find.”
The job suddenly seemed less exciting than before.
Chapter Three
Ten minutes later I pulled into Jack’s Diner, home of the greatest coffee in all of Massachusetts. But my heart was beating way too fast already. I didn’t need caffeine.
I tried to process what I’d heard. These people weren’t taking any chances. If they’d killed the driver (who, according to the captain, “didn’t know a thing”), what might they do to me if I overhead a detail they’d prefer I didn’t know?
Deep breath, I told myself. I was really hoping that if I did good work, it might mean a big promotion. Besides, detectives had to be brave. Very brave.
As I walked into the diner, the lunch hour was in full swing; the sounds of laughter and conversation hit me along with the air conditioning.
A woman with soft, round curves hurried over, smiling like she’d known me all my life. “Welcome to Jack’s, sweetheart,” she said in a mouse-like voice. “Tables are all full, but I can find you a spot at the counter. How do you take your coffee, hon? Refills are always free.”
“Oh, no coffee for me, thank you. I just came by to talk to Jack. Do you know where I can find him?” I had to look down as I talked. She only came up to my shoulder.
She nodded to a customer as if to let him know she’d be there in just a minute. “I think that Mr. Cooper is in his office, hon.”
“Okay, I’ll head on up. I’m his daughter, Charlie.”
“Charlie! You don’t say!” Her hand flew to her chest. “He talks about you all the time: his daughter out in Boston and how she works with the police.” She used a reverent, hushed tone to say the last two words. “He’s just so proud. So proud.” With that, she peered up at me as if I were the queen of the world come to town. “Well, if it isn’t Charlie Cooper. Charlie Cooper in the flesh.”
Well. That was quite a welcome, considering that my skills pretty much consisted of answering the phone in a pleasant voice and typing emails kind of fast.
“I’m sure he’ll be down in just a minute. I think he’s talking to suppliers. So. Why don’t you sit down at the counter, hon? How would you like a big piece of the most fabulous caramel cake? People say that it’s the best.”
I thought about it for a minute. How many cookies had I eaten just that very morning? But…cake! And caramel! “That sounds just delightful.”
“Would you like some coffee with it?”
“Decaf, please. With lots of cream.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. I laughed at other people when I heard them order decaf. Because, really, what’s the point? But my heart was racing. Guess a lot of things were different – your coffee order, even – when you traded your desk job in for something more exciting.
I watched as the waitress moved from one table to another. She teased one man about a haircut. “You’re looking kind of fancy. Trying to impress some new girl, I suppose.” She told another that she’d heard about his new promotion. “That will get you a free refill.” She poured more coffee into his mug.
“Refills are always free at Jack’s.” The man laughed, then took a sip.
Soon she was at the counter with a slice of cake so huge it almost covered up the plate. “You enjoy that, hon,” she said. “Oh my, that looks good. I think I’ll get myself a piece when my shift is through.” A quick glance at her nametag revealed her name was Marge.
She slid a mug in front of me. “Better go hide a piece for me somewhere in the back. Or this baby will be all gone before I can have a taste.” She erupted into giggles; it was a pleasant sound. I really liked this Marge.
“Hey, Celeste, get over here,” she called out to another waitress.
A woman – with the brightest orange hair I’d ever seen – looked our way and nodded. She finished writing down an order then sauntered over to the counter. “I hope you’re not calling me over here to gossip. You know that it’s the lunch rush.” She worked her heavily lipsticked mouth around a wad a gum. She was as tall, as Marge was short. They made quite a pair. Her hair was stacked so high that I wondered if it would topple if she walked too fast.
“Look who we have right here. Right here at my counter.” Marge nodded proudly toward me.
Celeste gave me a curious look.
“It’s Charlie Cooper! All the way from Boston. Jack’s daughter. From the police.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Celeste smiled. “We have certainly heard
all about you, Charlie Cooper.” She turned around to take two plates from the window that separated the dining room from the kitchen. She frowned down at the orders and returned them to their places. “Salad dressing on the side,” she said. “And Sam Burns wanted his burger to come without lettuce or tomato.” She rolled her eyes. “And hurry it up in there. He needs to get out of here for a doctor’s appointment at two.”
“All right, all right. Just chill,” came a male voice from the kitchen.
“Do your job in there, babe. We’re here to work, not chill.”
I decided that I liked her too. She told people what she thought. Next time that my friend Graywell decided to be a pain, I’d stop and ask myself what Celeste might say. She’d stick her long and polished fingernails right up in his face; she wouldn’t take his shit.
Once I finished my snack, I headed up the stairs to say hello to Dad. I could hear his booming laughter when I was halfway up the steps. Life was always a party for my father, even if he was in his office ordering supplies or looking over bills.
I peeked into his open door. He was on the phone with his feet up on his desk. He grinned and waved me in. “Well, I’ve got to go, Al,” he said into the phone. “I’ve got an important visitor by the name of Charlie Cooper.” He listened for a moment. “Oh yes, we are excited to have our girl in town.”
He wrapped me in a big hug. “I’ve missed you, hon,” he said. “And your mother tells me that we get to keep you longer than one day. Will wonders never cease?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d hang around. I’ve missed the cooking here at Jack’s.”
He grinned. “Best burgers in the state. Yeah, hang out here with your old Dad. I’ll keep the coffee coming.”
That’s when I wondered, for the first time, if I could really pull this off: hanging at the diner, making friends, hoping to pick up on some magic nugget of information to offer up to Kingsley. It wasn’t a thing I did well, making conversation with a bunch of strangers.
Heck. I was super awkward even when I had to talk to people that I knew. I was not a people person. I was a Netflix person. A paperback-mystery girl.
