Sticky Fingers

by Nancy Martin

  “You haven’t filled out your applications, have you?”

  She stole another look at me. “Not exactly.”

  “Not at all. How come? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”

  “I don’t— Okay, it’s just too much right now.”

  “Right now is when they have to get done,” I insisted. “You can’t put them off any longer or you’ll end up at the community college.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s where Zack went, for one thing. You want to be a yinzer, too?”

  “God, no,” she said with a shudder.

  “Then you need to get those applications done. You can’t let Brian talk you out of going to college.”

  “Where’d you get that idea? Mom,” she said, then stopped.

  “What?” I demanded. “What’s the problem? Brian?”

  Sage took a deep breath. “The problem is you can’t afford to send me to college.”

  I hit the brakes and pulled over to the curb. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You can’t pay for college. It’s incredibly expensive, and you don’t have the tuition money.”

  I turned sideways in the seat to face her. “Don’t worry about where the dough comes from. That’s my job—mine and Flynn’s. He said he’d help. And Loretta. There’s always Loretta.”

  Sage was teary. “You won’t take money from Aunt Loretta. She says you never have, never will.”

  I hadn’t. Borrowing anything from Loretta always felt like cheating. Like I couldn’t manage on my own. And now I didn’t know how I felt about Loretta at all. Turns out, she’d changed the course of my life by sending Flynn off to the Marine Corps. Life could have been a lot different for all of us if she had minded her own business back then.

  But here was Sage, sounding both panicky and resigned to a dismal fate.

  I said, “Maybe I’ve been stubborn about Loretta helping. But college is different, Sage. We’re going to get you there, no matter what it takes. If that means borrowing from Loretta, that’s what we’ll do.”

  She didn’t speak.

  “I mean it,” I insisted. “Let us worry about the money. All you have to do is the paperwork. Flynn and I will figure out the financial stuff.”

  She peeked at me. “You talk to him about this? About me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You—I mean, the two of you really talked?”

  “We talk a lot. What—you think all we do is yell at each other?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t yell exactly. It’s weird. Sometimes you act like total strangers, and then suddenly there’s this look in your eyes, and I’m invisible.”

  “You’re never invisible. Flynn and I go way back, that’s all. There’s history. Some good, some bad, but it’s us, you know? Right now, your future is the most important thing to both of us.”

  “Do you love him?”

  I grabbed the steering wheel and looked out the windshield.

  “See?” Sage said. “That’s weird, what you just did.”

  “It’s not weird,” I insisted.

  “Then answer the question.”

  “I love you,” I said. “That’s what counts. Family is the important thing.”

  “Flynn is family. My family.”

  “Yes, he is,” I said, trying to sound like an adult. “And he loves you like crazy. But me? And him? It’s difficult. For one thing, he’s with Marla now.”

  “Marla.” Sage’s singsong had some ridicule in it.

  I looked at my kid. “What’s wrong with Marla?”

  “She’s a yinzer,” Sage said, and I laughed.

  “So am I,” I told her.

  “No, you’re not. Not exactly. But Marla pretends not to be. She wants to be a fashion model or something, and she’s just—okay, she’s dumb, I guess.”

  “She needs help, that’s all. Or Flynn wouldn’t be with her.”

  “Really?” Sage sounded curious. “He’s like that? Like you?”

  “What?”

  “You’re always helping people. If Sister Bob wasn’t living in Loretta’s house, you’d have some girl with a black eye staying in that room. Flynn does the same thing?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, suddenly tired. And hungry. Disoriented, too. I couldn’t figure out my relationship with Flynn right now. It was all too damn complicated. “Let’s get some lunch, okay?”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Sage lunged across the seat and gave me a hug. “Most of the time I don’t expect you to act like a real mother, but sometimes you remind me that you really are.”

  “I hope that’s a compliment.” I messed up her hair. “Where do you want to eat?”

  At her request, we drove through a Wendy’s and ate sandwiches in the truck in the parking lot.

  Once, I saw a cop car cruise by, and I realized I needed to make a decision about Brian’s Escalade. At the very least, I needed to find a new license plate.

  At that moment, my phone rang, and I checked the ID.

  “Who is it?” Sage popped a French fry.

  Carmine. Sage didn’t know much about Carmine. She probably saw him as the friendly old guy who waved at her in church and brought over Easter candy and Christmas mints.

  I said, “Nobody important right now.”

  Sage’s cell phone gave a chirp, and she checked its screen. “Text message,” she reported. “From Brian. He’s at the police station, reporting his stolen vehicle. Uh, what should I tell him, Mom?”

  “Nothing yet. I have to decide some things first.”

  “Did you steal this car?” she asked, flat out. “Tell me the truth this time.”

  “No. But I’m in possession, and that’s all the cops are going to care about. So don’t answer, all right? Let me think about the best way to handle this.”

  “Who did steal it?”

  “Sage—”

  “Oh my God!” The realization hit her. “It was Zack, wasn’t it?”

  Rather than looking angry, Sage suddenly had pink spots on her cheeks and a glow in her eyes.

  My phone rang again. It was Zack this time. I decided to pick up.

  He said, “You need to get back here. These kids are driving me crazy.”

  “Remember that feeling next time you don’t have a condom. Be there in ten minutes.”

  I closed the phone to find Sage’s gaze on me again. Full of affection, she said, “Thanks, Mom.”

  “For what?”

  “Being cool, I guess.” She grinned. “I need to go to the bathroom. Then you better take me back to school, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She grabbed her backpack and bailed out of the Escalade. I sat there for a while feeling pleased with myself. Turns out, I could be a mom after all.

  That feeling didn’t last long. The next phone call was from Bug Duffy.

  He said, “Where are you?”

  I told him, and he said, “Stay there. I’m coming.”

  I decided it would be smart not to be found sitting in a stolen car by a police officer, so I got out of the Escalade, left it unlocked, and carried my Coke over to a bench under a tree. A bus stop stood a few yards away, but it was obvious that a lot of public-transportation patrons had eaten their fast-food meals on the bench while waiting for their rides. Greasy bags and wrappers were mashed into the ground around the bench.

  Two minutes later, Bug’s battered cruiser took the corner too fast, bumped the curb, and careened into the parking lot. He parked carelessly, got out, and walked over to me.

  I offered him my Coke. “Looks like you need to cool down, Detective.”

  He ripped off his sunglasses and glared. “Just what the hell have you been doing?”

  “Sit down. Relax.”

  “I don’t feel like sitting with you.” His voice was icy. “Want to know who I interviewed this morning?”

  “Can I buy a vowel?”

  “Your uncle Carmine. And he had some interesting things to tell me. About you.”
>
  That didn’t sound good.

  22

  He said, “You were hired to kidnap Clarice Crabtree.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “The hell it isn’t!”

  “Now, Bug—”

  “Your mobbed-up uncle told me himself. Said you were supposed to kidnap Clarice the night she was murdered.”

  “Nobody hired me. I turned down the job.”

  “But you knew it was going to happen.”

  “No.” I got to my feet. “As far as I knew, they couldn’t find anyone to do it, so—”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “I don’t know. All I saw was a photocopied letter.”

  “Who showed you the letter? Carmine?”

  “Yes, Carmine.” If the old crook could throw me under the bus, I could do the same to him. “Indirectly.”

  “What were the details?”

  “There was a phone number.”

  “Who answered?”

  “I didn’t call.”

  “How much money was exchanged?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “Why was Clarice the target?”

  “I don’t know any of these answers, Bug! Someone was supposed to make a phone call for instructions, but it wasn’t me. I rejected the job at the very beginning.”

  “And just when were you going to mention all of this to me?” Bug demanded.

  “Probably never,” I shot back.

  “And you don’t see anything wrong with that? Why were you at Clarice’s house the night she was snatched?”

  “I went to see her because I knew somebody wanted to kidnap her.”

  “You went to watch?”

  “To warn her! But I didn’t have enough time. She had to rush to a meeting. And besides,” I added, “she was a pain in the ass.”

  Bug stared. “You didn’t warn her because of some high school grudge?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Did you see who grabbed her?”

  “Of course not. I’d have told you if I had.”

  “Oh, really? That’s the point when your conscience kicks in?”

  Bug turned away, muttering under his breath. At that moment, Sage came out of the restaurant. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed across the parking lot in the direction of the Escalade. Bug’s gaze sharpened on her.

  “Is that—?”

  Then his attention traveled past Sage to the vehicle.

  He spun around with fresh outrage. “For God’s sake, on top of everything else you stole your daughter’s boyfriend’s car?”

  “What car?”

  Bug cursed and yanked out his cell phone. “I don’t know why I bother trying with you. I ignored what everybody was saying at the station house. I thought you could clean up your act, be a normal human being. I thought you had a heart. But you’re as screwed up as ever, aren’t you? With a twisted sense of right and wrong. Just like your crooked uncle.”

  “Sometimes things happen,” I said. “Sometimes going to the cops is the wrong thing to do.”

  “This time it was the right thing,” he said. “I’m finished standing up for you, Roxy. You’re a hustler on the edge of the law. Well, this time you can go to jail, for all I care.”

  He punched in a call and spoke tersely into his phone. Whoever was on the other end of the line heard exactly where a stolen Escalade with the SQUISHY plate could be found.

  Sage spotted me and changed direction, happily heading my way.

  I thought fast.

  About then, a city bus pulled up, and a half a dozen passengers straggled off. Two university students headed in the direction of the campuses, but the others mingled on the sidewalk for a moment, aimless. Among them, I spotted a youngish guy who looked every inch a panhandler—shoes held together with duct tape, shapeless clothes that needed time in a Laundromat, bushy hair, and a face that hadn’t seen a razor in weeks.

  While Bug snapped orders on his cell phone, I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my pocket.

  With the instinct of a pigeon catching sight of a shiny object, the panhandler spotted the ten and ambled toward me.

  Sage reached my side about the same time.

  “Sweetheart,” I said to her, “got a piece of paper and a pencil?”

  From her backpack, my daughter obediently produced both, and I scribbled a fast note.

  I handed the ten and the note to the panhandler and pointed him in the direction of the restaurant. “Grab yourself a burger,” I said to him. “And while you’re at it, could you give this note to the nice lady at the cash register?”

  He headed straight for the front door.

  Bug snapped off his phone and swung on us. But Sage’s arrival startled him, and he quickly smothered his anger at me. “Sage, right?”

  My daughter smiled up at him, relaxed and confident that all was right with the world. “Hi, yes.” She put out her hand to shake his.

  He took it automatically, and I could see him struggling with the instinct to be nice to a pleasant teenager while wanting to strangle me with his bare hands.

  I said, “This is Detective Duffy, Sage. He used to be a friend of mine.”

  “Oh,” Sage said, “one of my girlfriends babysits for you sometimes. Bailey Jones.”

  “Right, yeah, Bailey. Nice kid.”

  “She loves your boys. Says they’re a lot of fun.”

  “Thanks.”

  While they made small talk, I could see the anger drain out of Bug. He couldn’t stay mad.

  But I held my breath, hoping the scene would play out the way I hoped.

  Another cop car arrived. And another and another. They were soon swarming the place, lights flashing. Officers jumped from their cruisers. But instead of surrounding the Escalade, they converged and made a dash for the front door of the restaurant.

  “What in the world—?” Sage looked around. “What’s going on?”

  A mob of customers came running out of the restaurant, hands waving, lots of yelling. Bug noticed the growing chaos and turned.

  Another police vehicle barreled into the parking lot, and Bug flagged him down. “What’s happening?”

  “Robbery in progress,” the cop reported.

  “Robbery!” Sage cried.

  Bug forgot about us and headed for the restaurant.

  “That’s our cue,” I said to Sage. “Let’s get out of here before they block off the parking lot.”

  I bustled Sage over to the Escalade, and we climbed in. Half a minute later, I was steering the big vehicle through the maze of haphazardly abandoned cop cars, and we hit the street at last. I floored the accelerator and headed away from the restaurant.

  Buckling her seatbelt, Sage said to me, “Mom, what was that note you gave the homeless guy?”

  I decided not to tell Sage.

  But I’d written, “This is a holdup.”

  Hey, it bought me enough time to escape being arrested for grand theft auto.

  When we arrived back at the salvage yard, Rooney scrambled over Sage to get out of the truck. She climbed out more slowly, and by the time we reached the hood of the Escalade, Zack was outside, blinking in the sunlight.

  “What are you doing here?” Sage asked him.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” he said in the same tone.

  “What, you’re suddenly my dad? I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

  “That goes both ways.”

  I said, “Stop it, you two. I’ve had an extremely long day already.”

  “You haven’t tried ordering pizza for picky eaters,” Zack said. “What the hell is a vegan, exactly? That Japanese girl is nuts.”

  “She’s not Japanese,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “Is everything okay? They’re safe?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problems.”

  “Okay, thanks. Round them up now,” I told him. “This place isn’t secure anymore.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We have to f
ind somewhere else for everyone. At least for a few hours.”

  “Speaking of hours,” Zack said. “I have to be at work by three. Stadium security for the Dooce concert.”

  “That’s tonight already?”

  I checked my watch. Stony wanted me backstage by five. But first priority was getting Clarice’s kids stowed someplace where their mother’s killer couldn’t find them. I considered calling Bug for that. After all, the kids would be better protected by the police. But I had to ditch the Escalade first. I didn’t want Zack taking the blame for stealing it.

  Plus I needed to figure out something to wear to the concert.

  “Let’s take everybody over to my place. Zack, go get the kids. Tell Nooch I want him to drive the Monster Truck. I’ll take the Escalade.”

  “Got it.” Zack turned tail and strode back inside.

  Sage had watched the whole exchange without a word. But she looked thoughtful as Zack disappeared purposefully into my office.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to her. “We’ve had a few problems this morning.”

  When Zack herded everyone out, I grabbed Richie Eckelstine. “How’s your expertise with men’s fashion?”

  “What?”

  “Nooch needs a suit for a wedding tomorrow. If I sent you with him to the Goodwill store, could you help him pick out something that won’t look stupid?”

  Richie gave Nooch a practiced glance. “It’s a challenge.”

  “A big one, I know.”

  The kid lifted his chin, undaunted. “I’ll give it a shot.”

  I produced my last few dollars and handed them over to Richie. “No bow ties. I don’t want him looking like a dancing bear.”

  “I get it.”

  He turned away, but I grabbed him one more time.

  “Another thing,” I said.

  He waited.

  He waited a little more.

  Finally, he prompted, “Another thing?”

  Although I’d rather poke a fork in my eye than say so, I admitted, “I need something to wear tonight. To a concert.”

  “The symphony?” Richie inquired, one brow raised.

  “Listen, smart-ass, I could turn you loose with your obnoxious little sister anytime.”

  “Okay, okay, but I need more to go on.”

  “I’m singing. I’m singing backup for Dooce at his concert tonight.”

  Richie’s bland expression gave way to something akin to being impressed. “No kidding?”