by Sosie Frost
I didn’t like his game. He glanced out his windows, shifted in his seat, lowered his voice.
“I might want some ice cream…” I pulled out the hundred-dollar bill. “How much will this get me?”
“Depends on what you want.”
“Tell me what happened to the pregnant woman who got hit by the truck.”
“Gonna need a lot more than that to get me to talk.”
“Look Scooter Crunch, I’m onto you.” I pushed the bill closer. “Take the money. Tell me what you know. We’ll both go our separate ways.”
“I got nothing to say.”
“I think you do. And I think you’re going to tell me.”
“Why?”
I sneered. “Because I’m the one who got hit that day, Push Pop. And now I got this song in my head that’s been playing over and over for the past six months…”
“Aw shit.”
“Let me ask you—do your ears hang low, Klondike?”
“I got nothing to say.”
“Do they wobble to and fro?”
“Lady, look—”
“Can you tie them in a goddamn knot?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The ice cream man ripped his hat off. He leaned out the window and hissed at me. “Not here. We can’t talk here.”
Jackpot.
I patted my diaper bag and held his stare. “I got extra diapers and nowhere I gotta be. Name the place.”
“I can’t be seen with you.”
“Then we got a problem.”
He scowled and pointed across the street, to a narrow alley surrounded by red brick buildings. “Over there. Make it quick.”
Not sure how subtle he planned on making this operation. The ice cream truck pulled into the alley, barely large enough to contain it. He pulled the break, and the rotation Caution, Children! Sign scraped the wall. He slapped at his ignition, but the music still tinkled, echoing into the street. He couldn’t turn it off, but Pop! Goes The Weasel was a bit more subtle. At least we could talk alone.
It was time to learn just how low these ears hung.
And how sticky this conspiracy got.
“Who sent you?” The ice cream man jumped out of his truck. “Was it Frozen Frankie?”
I frowned. “No one sent me.”
“Bullshit. It was Icy Jim. He knows, doesn’t he?”
“About the accident?”
“Fuck.” He slammed a hand against the bricks. “I knew it’d get out.”
“Of course it got out…” I said. “The police were called.”
“The police?” He laughed. “You think I’m worried about the police?”
“Or a lawsuit.”
He snickered, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, little girl. You don’t got a clue what you’ve stumbled into.”
I had a pretty good Clue, but she wasn’t much of a help now. I didn’t let him intimidate me.
“You hit a pregnant woman on your route,” I said. “That’s what I’m interested in.”
“And that’s the problem.” He leaned close. “It wasn’t my route. Now what do you know? What’s Icy Jim got on us?”
“On us?”
“Spill it. If he’s involved, we’re both fucked.”
“I don’t know an Icy Jim,” I said.
That news didn’t please him. He swore, running his hands through his hair. “Look lady. Why are you here?”
Hell if I knew anymore. “I just need information. What happened the day of the accident? What happened on Evie Street?”
“Evie Street?” His eyebrows scrunched. “Lady, I didn’t hit you on Evie Street.”
My stomach twisted. “You didn’t?”
“Look. Frozen Freddy owns these streets. Saves the primo routes for him. Schools. Parks. The high-class areas. You get me?”
“No?”
“You want a slice of this market, you gotta take what you can get. We fight over the scraps like dogs while Frozen Freddy and Icy Jim live like royalty.”
“So…Dairy Queens?”
“I did what I had to survive. The cream doesn’t pay well, but I love what I do. So yeah. I went outside my route. Picked up a little afternoon action on the juicier roads. I hit you over in Frozen Freddy’s territory. Clarissa Street. Shit got real. I bolted.”
“What…did you do?”
“Protected myself. Worked it out that the accident was back in my streets. Evie, Frankie, Gretta.”
“But the police report—”
“Favors get exchanged, and the cones don’t crumble. Gotta do what you gotta do to keep the chocolate syrup flowing.”
“The police lied?”
A car drove by. He panicked, leaping for the truck. I chased after him as best I could with a stroller.
“Wait! We’re not done!”
“You want anything more, talk to my insurance.” He pointed in my face. “But you stay the hell away from me, lady.”
“Did you move me?” I asked. “Drive me to the other street? Did you tell the officer to lie?”
“Do yourself a favor.” He hopped into the truck and tossed me an ice cream sandwich. “Be glad nothing bad happened. This is bigger than you and me.”
“How? It’s just ice cream.”
He laughed, starting the truck. “Don’t ask too many questions, Lady. These streets are as mean as they are sticky. Don’t try to find me again…I won’t be able to protect us if the story gets out and Frozen Freddy and Icy Jim learn where I really was that day.”
He didn’t waste time. He threw the truck in reverse and busted out of the alley, the twinkling music oddly sinister as it echoed from the brick walls.
I stared after him, clutching a melting ice cream sandwich.
What the hell just happened?
While I wasn’t keen on ducking an apparent confectionary mafia, the truth was just as damning for me as it was him.
Did Shepard know my accident hadn’t happened on Evie Street?
Jesus. The search for my apartment, my life, my name was undertaken on the wrong side of town.
I still had a chance to discover who I was…
I leaned against the wall, tossing the ice cream aside as Clue woke up and gave a little cry.
For six months, I’d demanded answers. I finally had some…a trail. A lead…
But I had no idea what secrets I’d find once I followed those clues.
Or if I wanted to learn them.
18
“How about…Gretchen?”
I nearly gagged. I pitched my fortune cookie at his head and threatened him with my chopsticks.
“You take it back,” I said.
“I think it’s a pretty name.”
“Gretchen? Just hearing it has me wretchin’.”
“It’s cute.”
“And I said no the first time.”
Shepard’s bite stopped three inches before his mouth. He lost control of the chopsticks and the chicken tumbled into his lap. “When?”
I stabbed a piece of broccoli with the stick and hummed. “I don’t know. The first time you said Gretchen.”
“When was that?”
“Probably during the Stella, Bella, Raella debacle.”
“Maybe.”
I quieted. The name blinked into my mind. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I think…” I shook my head. “That was a memory…pre-you.”
“Really?”
It was gone as quick as it came. “Weird.”
“Well, I agree with him. I like the name.”
“Vetoed.” I tickled Clue under her chin. “I think you’re doomed to be Suzette forever.”
“Suzie Clue.” Shepard opened another box of the Chinese. “Want some?”
He spooned a bit of the noodles onto my plate. I poked at them with the chopsticks.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Pad thai. Try it.”
I generally trusted Shepard. This was one of the few times he betrayed that gift.
I spat the noodles out. “
Ew.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “I forgot. You don’t like peanut sauces.”
“But…I’ve never had this before.”
He laughed. “Sure you have. That’s not the best quality, but I know we’ve tried it.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember a lot of things.”
“I’d remember that.” I pushed the plate away. “Must have been your other girlfriend.”
“Maybe you tried it with your ex-boyfriend while naming the baby Gretchen?”
A second fortune cookie battered his forehead. “I’m eating in the living room.”
“Oh, come on.” He chuckled. “I don’t see you all day…”
I took my plate and baby and headed for the couch. “So you come home and make fun of me?”
“It’s the highlight of my day.”
Clue was happy on her activity mat, and I snuggled in with Shepard’s iPad that, coincidentally, never returned to his house after I’d discovered it.
“You know what the highlight of my day was?” I balanced my plate on my thighs. “You’ll never guess.”
“Well, the apartment building is still standing, and I didn’t get any calls about residential disturbances.”
I smirked, sneaking a sip of iced tea before broaching the subject. “What do you know about the mafia in this city?”
His plate nearly toppled. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Evie.”
“Relax. It’s nothing bad. I don’t think. But I found something.”
“You found something?”
“I went for a walk today, and I think I uncovered a front.” I leaned forward. “If we break this ring up, can I get credit for it? Get a movie like the Untouchables?”
“Okay, Elliott Ness. What the hell did you do?”
“I got some ice cream today,” I said. “From a truck.”
Shepard laughed. “That’s my girl. Getting back on the horse…or in front of the truck.”
“That’s the thing though. I found the driver who hit me.”
Now Shepard’s smile faded. “You didn’t talk to him, did you?”
“Of course I talked to him.”
“Evie.”
“And he had a lot of weird things to say.” I tapped the iPad, bringing up a map of the city. “He said that the accident wasn’t on Evie Street.”
“And you believed him?”
“He said he had to bluff, to move the location of the accident so that Frozen Frankie—”
“—Who?”
“Frozen Frankie. I think he’s the head of this ice cream ring. The driver wasn’t in his assigned territory. He was skimming from Frozen Frankie, and—”
“I’m going to stop you there.” Shepard exhaled. “Yes, there’s some organized crime in the city. Hell, you sniff around city hall long enough and you’ll find more than enough corruption. But, Evie…ice cream trucks?”
“He said it was bigger than both of us.”
“He was teasing you.”
“He was serious.”
“Then he was crazy.” Shepard abandoned his chopsticks in favor of a fork. “I know you’re curious, and I want answers as badly as you do, but I don’t think this guy is a reputable source of information. Probably spent too many hours in the freezer and iced his brain cells.”
“But he said the accident location was wrong.” I swallowed. “He said the police officer helped to collaborate it.”
Shepard was silent. “Even if that were true—”
“Weren’t you the responding officer?”
“I arrived on the scene, but it was after the accident.”
“Did it look like I’d been moved?”
“No. It looked like you were goddamned labor. Who is going to shove a pregnant lady with breaking water into a speeding ice cream truck just to get out of some clandestine custard-related gang territory?”
“You make it sound crazy.”
“I’m just repeating what you told me,” he said. “Do yourself—and me—a favor. Don’t go chasing conspiracies. And don’t talk to that guy again.”
“Why not?”
“If he was the driver who hit you, you might complicate an investigation. If you ever need to reexamine the case—”
“I’m not going to sue him.”
“But you might need to one day. Let him be. If you need information, you can get a lawyer.”
“But—”
“I’ve seen people ruin cases this way. Believe me.” He shifted as his phone rang. He put the plate down and motioned that he was going to the other room to take the call. “Just forget about it. He was probably messing with you.”
“Expensive damn trick.”
He groaned. “You didn’t give him money, did you?”
“Pleading the fifth. Take your call.”
Shepard frowned, but the station never slept. He stalked to the other room to answer his partner’s call.
I liked that I had a dedicated public servant of my very own—someone who took his job so seriously. He was…
Ethical.
Straight-laced.
Important.
Someone I wished I could be, and I’d do everything in my power to make sure Clue took after him.
But that didn’t mean he was right. I tapped my finger on the iPad. The whole afternoon made even less sense now. They might have found me on Evie Street…but Darnell had spoken my name so…
Authentically.
Like even he believed it.
And hell…I was starting to believe it.
Evie Hamilton.
It seemed like a good name. Not sure how Darnell invented the surname, but it was convincing.
I opened the iPad’s browser and stared at the search bar. The letters typed in slowly, a tribute to my idiocy for trying something so stupid.
But it got a hit. Quite a few actually.
And the top post nearly stopped my heart.
A Facebook page.
My facebook page.
“Holy shit.”
The iPad crashed onto the coffee table, knocking over a plate of beef and broccoli and a glass of tea. I didn’t bother grabbing a towel. I tugged the nursing pad from my bra and tossed it over the mess.
The picture on the screen?
It was me.
Evie Hamilton.
A beautiful, smiling face, bordered with natural curls and white framed sunglasses pushed down on her nose peeked back at me.
“Shepard!” I shouted. The word stuck in my throat. My hands trembled as I reached for the iPad. I touched the screen, clicking the link. “Shepard, come here!”
The Facebook page flashed, but the goods were hidden. I’d marked the page as private, and only friends could see more than my profile name and picture.
But it was me.
I was right there.
Darnell had told me the truth.
The shock ripped through me.
What else had he told me? What else was true?
I pinched my eyes closed.
The pain ripped through my temples.
“What happened?” My hand trembled as I squeezed the phone. “Where is she?”
“She…she was arrested.”
“Arrested? For what?”
“Possession of marijuana.”
No fucking way.
“She’s eighty-three years old,” I said. “She never smoked a cigarette, drank a beer, or done anything illegal her entire life.”
He spoke slowly. Like that would help. “An officer found a bag of weed in her house.”
“What were they doing in her house?” I knew the answer as soon as I asked the question. “Did you let them in?”
“It must have been someone else’s stash.”
“Obviously.”
“They’re charging her with possession.”
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it!”
He breathed deep, but even he couldn’t hide the truth for long. “There was a gun under the couch too, Evie. Unregistered.”
> No, no, no.
I groaned, banging the phone off my forehead. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening.
Not to Granna.
“It belonged to one of the boys in the neighborhood,” I said. “You know it’s not hers. She takes care of everyone in the community. Anyone could have hid it there while getting something to eat.”
“I know.”
That didn’t make it any better. “Fix this.”
“I’m trying.”
“No.” The words seared through me. “You’re the reason this is happening.”
Damn it.
I rubbed my temples. The headache didn’t dissipate.
And the truth it left behind formed a narrative I no longer wanted to learn.
I stared at the Facebook page. Could I guess my email address and password? Was it possible to hack into my own life?
I had to try. I could find out everything with one click of the mouse.
Who I was. Where I was from. What my plans had been. How my life had gone.
What happened to Granna.
But maybe this was enough. Shepard was a cop. The station had to have some sort of software that could access Facebook accounts. I wasn’t asking for the entire NSA to reveal their secret cloud storage. But if a pimply faced intern with a fresh computer science degree could tap in a few passwords?
“Shepard!”
I backed out of the Facebook page, searching for other social media. Maybe the Instagram or Twitter was public?
“Jesus.” Shepard stalked the hall with a smirk. “I’m working on an arson case, and you’re bellowing like there’s a murder. What’s wrong?”
My eyes darted to the iPad before answering.
And my heart stopped.
The Facebook page wasn’t the only hit for me. A newspaper article had my name emblazoned on a headline.
It wasn’t anything I’d have read out loud.
I clicked the link, staring at a familiar face, but this one wasn’t smiling, and she didn’t have that carefree look to her.
It was me—a much younger me, but me.
And I was holding a sign.
Evie Hamilton. A number. The height scale behind me.
A mugshot?
“Evie?” Shepard called. “What is it?”
“I…” I shrugged my shoulders despite every bone turning to concrete. “I…thought Clue was crawling.”
