by Lourey, Jess
“You didn’t apologize for hitting me. You sorry, baby?”
I kept walking.
I dropped a quarter into the first payphone I found, at the Underwood Quik Stop, and dialed the Battle Lake Police Station. Victor answered. I told him that I’d located Eric Offerdahl, that he had a sea creature tattoo, and that he was likely gnawing on a fentanyl sucker while we were talking. I reported what Mrs. Berns had said about a possible grow room in the brewery dorm, as well, and asked him to pass all the information on to Chief Wohnt immediately.
Next, I called Chuck Litchfield and told him I’d located the sorry piece of shit otherwise known as Eric Offerdahl at the microbrewery dorms and that I’d send him a final itemized bill for my services before the end of the week.
Unburdened of that information and my responsibility to my client, I returned to the hospital to check on Curtis. After much rerouting and waiting, I discovered that he was in stable condition but could not yet receive visitors. Despite this, I recognized Bernie from the hardware store, Sid from the café, and Theadora from the Apothecary in the waiting room, just in case Curtis woke up and they’d be allowed to visit him. I also recognized the owner of the Shoreline, whose first job had been working as Curtis’s farmhand, the nurse from the Senior Sunset who Curtis mentioned occasionally snuck him airplane-bottle-sized liquors, and the pastor from Curtis’s church.
“About time you arrived.”
I swiveled to find Mrs. Berns and Vienna wearing matching, swishy track suits and fanny packs. Vienna’s hair appeared freshly permed, just like Mrs. Berns’s, and her pursed lips and stocky build gave her the look of a low-rent Martha Stewart.
“What are you both doing here?” I asked, the emphasis on both.
“Stopped by to check on Curtis while we were in town buying party supplies.”
Vienna stepped back and abruptly began fanning herself, glancing at Mrs. Berns with an annoyed look on her face. “Baked beans say what? You nearly uncurled my hair with that one.”
Mrs. Berns shrugged. “It’s your fault I’m eating so many vegetables. I feel like a parade horse. So, are you gonna invite Mira to the party?”
Vienna pulled her hand from her nose. I smelled the same odor she did and thought she was overreacting. Or maybe I’d spent too much time with my pets and my elderly friends.
“We’re having a party at my house tomorrow,” Vienna said. “You’re invited.”
She didn’t seem happy about inviting me, like her mom had told her she needed to pick me for the team. Was she feeling as possessive of Mrs. Berns as I was? A few more of Mrs. Berns’s gas attacks, and she’d likely be cured of that. “I don’t think I’m swimsuit ready. Besides, I was just at the fitness center, and you may want to lay low in your neighborhood for a bit.”
Vienna drew herself up to her full, impressive height, her eyebrows beetling. “What do you mean?”
Not for the first time, I wondered what Mrs. Berns saw in her. She was a little stodgy, despite her hunter-hunting and her yoga and her faux-hippie lifestyle, and she didn’t seem to have much for humor. Plus, Mrs. Berns hated to eat healthy. “I mean the police believe there might be some drug activity at the fitness center and maybe the brewery.” I left myself out as the informant in that situation. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”
“I don’t draw conclusions, I draw connections.”
I looked at Mrs. Berns, my eyebrows raised. Do you see what sort of person you’re hanging out with? they said.
She raised one eyebrow of her own, it’s meaning clear: Don’t judge or I’ll give you a snake bite that’ll make you wish you could smell my fart again for relief from the misery.
I kept a scowl aimed at Mrs. Berns but spoke to Vienna. “The police know about the grow room at the fitness center.”
Vienna crossed her arms, looking from me to Mrs. Berns and back to me again. “How do you know about it?”
I shrugged. “There’s a gang member working there. He isn’t very tight with the secrets. What I want to know, do the owners of the brewery know he might be using it as a front for drug-running?”
She laughed at me, exactly as Eric had laughed when he realized I’d given him Betty Fishbacher as an alias. “You were talking to Eric, weren’t you? The young man with the piercing above his eye? He’s a liar, and a troublemaker, too, if you ask me. I just do the cooking, though, and teach some classes, so it’s none of my business who they hire. But no, I can assure you that O’Callaghan’s is a legitimate brewery run by decent people. Eric is a bad apple they think they can reform.”
“What about the grow room?”
“It’s not even at the fitness center. It’s just a nickname for an old cabin behind it in the woods where the kids hang after their shifts. They like that it feels secret. I can’t guarantee they’re not smoking any pot there, but they’re certainly no front for a drug cartel.” She wiped at her eyes, giggles still bubbling out.
My cheeks were hot. Getting laughed at publicly twice in one day was no treat, but what was eating me was that her story matched Eric’s. Could it be that he was just an aimless doper, and that the hard drugs were coming from somewhere else? But no, Jed had told me the sea monster gang had the hard stuff, and I trusted him. That meant that either Eric had pulled the wool over Vienna’s eyes, or she was in on it, too. I was weighing whether to punch her in the chest or check her purse for drugs when I entertained a thought, one I should have invited a lot earlier.
“Hey, who’s watching the library?”
Mrs. Berns pretended to have a great deal of interest in the plant behind her.
“Mrs. Berns?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Fine. I left the library because I wanted to go out with Vienna. Who reads on Thursdays, anyhow?”
“You just closed it down?”
“No, I didn’t just close it down.” She rolled her eyes. “I got all the people out first.”
My jaw dropped. My head was getting ready to pop when a nurse came over to me, a tentative smile on his face.
“Are you Mira James?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Marne at information told me.”
“Yes.” My heart drop-clutched.
“I have good news! Curtis woke up for a few minutes.”
I grabbed his arm. “Is he awake now?”
“I’m afraid not. He asked about you, and someone named Mrs. Berns, and said something about a tattoo and a hurt baby animal? And then he was out again.”
Thirty-Nine
I hung at the hospital until they chased me out well past visiting hours. Curtis didn’t wake up again, but the nurse on staff assured me that it was an excellent sign that he had spoken. Driving home, I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Was it yesterday? I realized I was so hungry that my stomach was cramping. I pulled into the Sunmart Foods parking lot and dipped into the deli to buy some spicy buffalo wings. I ended up leaving with the wings, a grapefruit soda, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and a small bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. When I pulled into my driveway, 97 percent of the food was in my tummy and only 3 percent on the front of my coat and in my lap.
“Where have you been all day?”
Taunita was seated on the couch, Timothy tucked under her arm and Alessa in her lap, reading an Olivia picture book to both of them. I glanced at the clock. It was 6:28 PM.
“My friend’s in the hospital. He was in critical condition, but it looks like he’s through the worst of it.” Away from the hospital and anyone who really knew me, I began to melt. The tears came first, followed by the kind of crying that made it hard to breathe.
It was embarrassing to be so emotional in front of a near stranger, but she pulled me over to the couch. I’d been doing too much of this crying thing lately. When my sobs had subsided to whimpering, I wiped at my eyes and saw that Timothy had put his soft blankie across my lap and gone to play with L
una. Alessa was on the other side of her mom, still watching me with her serious eyes, her thumb stuck in her mouth.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling away and going for a tissue.
Taunita watched me. “We all need a good cry sometimes. What put your friend in the hospital?”
I told her, starting with who Curtis was and what he meant to me, how he’d become a close friend and honorary grandpa to me. He was my guy. I counted on him. I needed him. “I guess he woke up for a short bit this afternoon,” I finished. “He asked for me, and another friend, and said the guy who attacked him had a tattoo and made a sound like a hurt baby animal.”
“Aw shit.” Taunita stood and began pacing. “Ray beat up an old man? Outside a drugstore? Shit,” she repeated.
Timothy’s eyes grew wide. I expected we would hear him trying out that word very shortly.
“Sounds like,” I said. “I don’t know anyone else with a stingray tattoo. I told the police what Curtis said before I came here.”
“But your friend isn’t awake yet?”
“He wasn’t when I left. He won’t be talking to anyone before tomorrow at the earliest.”
She glanced at her jacket. “You mind watching the kids while I go out for a while? I gotta get out of the house.”
Timothy was brushing Luna with a hairbrush that looked suspiciously like my own. Also, a distinct smell had begun to emanate from Alessa’s quadrant of the room, and it wasn’t chocolate.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Not too long. I need air.”
“Fine.” The woman had just watched me break down. What else could I say?
Ten minutes later, on her way out the door, she hit me with another zinger. “Oh, and a really hot guy stopped by looking for you. Almost gave me a taste for blondes, except he looked so sad. Said his name was Johnny?”
“Peeza.”
“Your mom said you already ate.” Alessa hadn’t warmed to me yet, but neither was she crying. It had been just the three of us for nearly an hour. For most of that time, Timothy had alternated between saying “ship” (thank goodness he couldn’t say his “t”s well) and “peeza.” I’d spent a lot of those minutes trying not to think about Johnny. I knew I should call him, but not now. I was busy. I’d think about it tomorrow.
“Peeza.”
Had to give the kid points for consistency. “I have string cheese. Do you want some of that?”
“Peeza.”
My shoulders slumped. Pizza delivery, like high-speed internet, had not yet come to rural Minnesota. A gas station in Battle Lake offered in-town pizza delivery. I lived three and a half miles outside of town.
“I’ll try.” I grabbed the phone. After two minutes of negotiation and “turn left at the Johnson farm” type directions, the delivery man agreed he’d bring pizza right to my door for an extra $5 delivery charge. I took it as a victory. Thirty minutes later, Timothy and I were enjoying second supper, and Alessa had allowed me to hold her, though she craned her neck like an owlet so she could watch me while I did so.
“Does your sister ever smile?”
“Dinah-sore!” Timothy dropped his pizza slice, arched his fingers into claws, drew back his lips, and growled.
I was getting ready to check his temperature when I felt the chuckle in my arms. Alessa was laughing at her brother, a deep Buddha giggle that rocked her whole body. It was contagious, calling up bubbling giggles from inside me. The more Alessa and I laughed, the more faces Timothy made, from monkey to giraffe to “monter-bot-a-rawr.”
“Hey,” I said spontaneously. “Do you guys want to go sledding?”
Timothy stopped in mid-mouse and pointed at the window. “Dark. Dark out der.”
It was indeed night, but a gorgeous full moon glittered on the snow like an invitation.
“Moonlight sledding! It’ll be fun.” I cleaned up the pizza, wrote Taunita a note explaining where we were, changed Alessa’s diaper for the second time that night, and piled both kids into their winter gear. Twenty minutes later, I’d hauled Sunny’s sleds out of a nearby shed and pulled the kids to the top of the sledding hill by the house. Luna was at our side, barking her excitement. The three of us slid down dozens of times, snow shushing up at us and the moon smiling down. I was amazed and grateful that Taunita trusted me with such incredible, valuable, creatures. They giggled. They begged for more. Boogers ran down both their faces like open faucets, and still they didn’t want to stop sledding. I thought of Maurice, and all that he would miss, and I kept on sledding with them until we were all soaked and Alessa’s eyes were heavy despite the smile on her face. I situated them both in the sled, Timothy holding his sister, and pulled them gently back.
They were both asleep by the time we reached the house, their cheeks impossibly rosy and vulnerable, their mouths both perfect little hearts. I carried them softly inside, wiped their noses, undressed and changed them, and tucked them into bed without waking them. I fell asleep on the couch so I’d be nearby if they needed me. Before I drifted off, I had a realization. The night I’d gotten the call about Curtis, I’d been sleeping on my mattress rather than under it. That meant tonight was the second night in a row that I’d slept above ground.
Something about having the kids around made me feel stronger.
Forty
I woke to the sound of someone shuffling in my kitchen. I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. The sun had not risen, but the murky lavender of the sky suggested it was near the horizon.
“Taunita?
“Ssh, now. The babies are still sleeping.”
I smelled oatmeal and coffee and heard her humming. “Where were you?”
“Stopping a cycle.” The humming continued. “Feeding justice. You must have wore out T and Alessa. They never sleep in this late.”
I pulled myself off the couch and poked my head into their room. Both were still conked out, Timothy sleeping with his arms sprawled and Alessa curled around a blanket. They looked like cozy, chubby angels. Returning to the kitchen, I accepted the cup of coffee Taunita handed me.
“I took them sledding. They’re pretty sweet kids.”
“Sledding? At night?”
“The moon was full.” I sipped at the coffee. It was bitter and delicious. I could get used to these roommates. “What do you mean you fed justice?”
“Not worth talking about. Can I borrow some money?”
I almost asked her what for, but it didn’t matter. I have a rule that I’ll lend anyone money once with no expectations of return. That way, I’m never let down, only pleasantly surprised. I grabbed my wallet off the counter. I had three twenties. I handed two to Taunita. “Do you know Eric Offerdahl?”
She shoved the money in her back jeans pocket. “I know the name. He’s a drug punk. Maurice met him through a friend in Chicago.”
“He’s from this area originally and is back here now, working at a brewery.”
She snorted. “From what Maurice told me, if Eric is working a legit job, it’s just a front to sell drugs. Mo said Offerdahl has bad bones.”
Her mention of Chicago earlier stirred a thought. “Have you ever heard of O’Callaghan’s? They had a carpet empire in the Chicago area, and now they own the microbrewery where Eric works. I’m wondering if the whole business is a front for drug-dealing.”
She shook her head. “Nah. Never heard of them. But if they owned an ‘empire,’ it makes no sense for them to mess with drugs. And why out here, in the middle of nowhere? It’s probably just two-bit Eric doing his business out the side.”
“Was Maurice dealing?”
She poured the oatmeal into a bowl. It smelled like apples and cinnamon. She must have brought it with her. Conflicting emotions chased each other across her face. She took her time answering.
“He said he wasn’t,” she said softly. “He said he was just here following up on tho
se letters. But then he got himself killed, so I don’t know. You’re gonna look into what happened to him, aren’t you? You said you would.”
“Mama?”
We both turned. A tousle-headed Timothy stood in the doorway, his blankie in one hand and a love-worn teddy bear in the other. I wanted to hug him close, but he was looking at me shyly, as if he was embarrassed at how well we’d gotten along yesterday.
Taunita grabbed him and held him close. “Hey, baby. I heard you went sledding!”
He ducked his head into the crook of her neck. “Hungry.”
She began feeding him oatmeal. I was deliberately ignoring her question. I didn’t want to tell her no, but Maurice’s death was in police hands now, and with the drugs and recent violence, they certainly weren’t going to care about some old letter and a drafty story about a stolen inheritance.
I took advantage of her attention being distracted and slipped to the phone to call the hospital. No change in Curtis’s condition, for better or worse. I ducked into the shower and got myself cleaned and prepped for work. When I returned to the living room, Alessa was awake, too, and eating her share of oatmeal with her mom’s help. She put her arms up to me immediately when she saw me, and I felt like I’d just won the Boston Marathon.
I snuggled her, taking over the oatmeal feeding and managing to keep us both pretty clean.
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground,” I finally said. “But nothing’s changed. I still can’t promise anything.”
Taunita smiled and nodded. She’d been waiting patiently for my answer.
“I’ve got to go to work at the library, and then maybe run some errands after. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“All right,” Taunita said.
All I could think of to help was to stop by the Prospect House before work in the hopes of talking with Carter Stone. I’d ask him what, if anything, he knew about Orpheus Jackson. It was the safest way I could think of tracking down information for Taunita.
It was a beautiful day, icy but clear, the sun sparkling off the driveway with the strength of a klieg light. The air looked and smelled beautifully clean, purified in the bitter cold. I put the temperature at five below zero, but it was only a guess. I scraped all six windows as the Toyota warmed up, or at least became less frigid. The seat was still rock-cold when I slid into it, hunched forward so I could see through the defrosted circles immediately at the base of the windshield. By the time I reached the end of Sunny’s long driveway, I didn’t need to hunch. The lower third of the windshield was clear. By the time I was at the Prospect House, the car was warm. Oh well.
