by Peg Herring
Hearing the tension in her voice, Abe ignored the implied criticism of his past. “You got out.”
“I did. The job at PLK meant I could afford to move, give Cory a better home, better school.”
“It seems to be working out well.”
“He’s not dead, not in jail.” She almost smiled. “He wants to go to college, maybe play a little football.”
Abe grinned. “I’d better talk to him. The boy needs counseling before he ends up a physical wreck like me.” He was pleased to see her smile turn brighter, as if they had passed some sort of milestone.
Chapter Forty-Two
I’m Down
When Madison heard movement and voices above him, he almost called out. That would have been useless, however, because it was Talbert again. Within minutes, another person joined him, one whose voice was vaguely familiar but hard to place.
“He’s down here. Don’t know if he’s still alive,” Talbert was saying. The tarp was pulled back and the beam of a flashlight struck Madison full in the face, effectively blinding him while the men above gauged his condition.
“Still here, Detective?”
“You came back for me. That’s sweet.”
Talbert snorted disdainfully. “Not for you, but because of you. They’ve figured out some things since you went missing.”
“Like that you aren’t dead?”
“Yeah, like that. As a result, we’ll be staying over for a while.”
Madison had drawn conclusions. “You and your buddy Falk?”
“There, you see, James? Give a detective a little time in solitary, and he figures out all sorts of things.”
“Had to be him or Pardike, and you mentioned a man unsatisfied with his job. I got no sense of dissatisfaction from Pardike. He loves every second of making money.”
“James is about to make supper. Not that you’ll be joining us.”
“That’s okay.” Madison countered. “I usually hang with a better class of people, like drug addicts and prostitutes.”
Talbert’s tone sharpened. “The only reason I don’t kill you right now is that we may have to be here a while, and I don’t want to smell your rotting carcass.”
The flashlight went off. Madison saw Talbert’s face as he turned away, noting he seemed much less sure of himself than before. Things must have fallen apart fast. Falk remained out of sight, but Madison heard things being moved in another part of the building.
Voices rose and fell as the two apparently unloaded a vehicle. “No, not there,” Falk insisted peevishly. “Food will be kept over here.” A few moments later, he objected to the placement of cots. “I’ll sleep in the corner. It’s as quiet a spot as I’m likely to find in this echo chamber.”
A defensive tone entered Talbert’s voice. “It wasn’t supposed to be long-term.”
“It’s going to be damned uncomfortable.” Falk’s tone clearly implied anger at Talbert. “This should have been easy, but you ruined everything.”
“It was an accident. The old guy fell.”
“Well, your accident made a shambles of it, and your supposed death didn’t fool them nearly long enough. Every police officer in Kent County is looking for you.”
“If what you suspect about Gougeon is right, they’ll be looking for you too.”
That apparently hit home. “It should have been months before anyone figured out what we’ve done.”
Talbert’s tone turned nasty. “Well, things are different now, so get over it!”
“Or what, Daryl? Don’t assume if we’re caught you can lay this on me.”
“Why not? It was your idea!”
“And who’ll believe it? They don’t like me, but you’re the one who broke the rules.”
Talbert apparently decided further argument was counterproductive. “We need to stick together or we’re both in for it.” When he got no answer he asked, “So what’s next?”
“You need to do something about my car.”
“Like what?”
“What did you do with his?”
“It’s at the airport, in long-term parking.”
“You can take mine there as well.”
“Do you realize how many cops are looking for me by now? If I hadn’t heard it on the scanner, I’d have checked in for my flight and been arrested.”
“Well, it has to be moved. If it’s in the alley all night, someone will know we’re in here.”
“I could park it at a used car lot I saw a few blocks down,” Daryl said grudgingly. “It’ll take them a while to notice it.”
“Good. At least you’re still thinking.”
Talbert left then, and the place was silent except for the sound of boxes being slit open. Falk was apparently setting up housekeeping, arranging things the way he wanted them. Madison shook his head. The guy’s need for precision extends even to his hideout.
There had to be a way to use their presence to his advantage, but Madison couldn’t figure out what it could be. He looked around once more, but none of the items in his prison seemed useful. Falk moved away, and Madison heard the pop-and-rush of a can opening. A drink sounded good, he wouldn’t care what kind. He went back to constructing escape scenarios so his mind couldn’t dwell on hunger, thirst, pain, and worst of all, fear.
Carmon’s car warmed in the afternoon sun, and she lowered the windows a few inches for ventilation. From the aroma, cherry trees blossomed somewhere nearby.
“I wish we knew what Falk is doing.”
“As long as we can see his car, I think we should wait.”
Carmon peered in the direction of the Lincoln. “I suppose calling the police isn’t an option. We can’t report a guy for unloading stuff from his vehicle.”
Abe had a vague idea of waiting for nightfall and sneaking in for a look at what was happening. Tori sensed he was no match for killers, and Carmon’s urging that he stay in the car seemed to indicate she felt the same.
Carmon was more comfortable with Abe now. She spoke naturally, smiled more often and was the Carmon Tori had gradually come to know. Abe’s thoughts were slightly embarrassing, but Tori understood how the male brain operates. While Abe wasn’t disgusting, he was definitely male, and Carmon’s nearness registered. Even non-sexual thoughts were physical. “I wish we’d brought something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Here.” Carmon opened her purse and took out a small bag of almonds. “I keep these for times like this.”
“When you’re on a stake-out?”
She chuckled and took his hand. Abe’s body temperature rose a notch. Shaking a handful of almonds into it, she set the rest on the console between them. Abe’s temperature remained elevated, but he gave no sign.
“So Carmon Calley, personal assistant to my uncle, what makes you tick? Amos praises your efficiency, but you almost ignore the rest of the people in our little world.”
A vertical line appeared briefly between Carmon’s brows. “I never meant to seem unfriendly.”
Abe hastened to reassure her. “I didn’t say that. But you are pretty reserved.”
Carmon reached down and released her car seat so it slid backward with a metallic clunk. She turned toward Abe, kicked off her shoes, and pulled her legs up onto the seat. “Sorry for the crack earlier about your background.”
“It’s okay. I was playing football and dating cheerleaders, at least until my dad died.”
“And then?”
“Mom had already been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. She was slowing down, wanted to return to GR. I started at GVSU, but her Parkinson’s seemed to get worse without Dad around. Maybe she just doesn’t care enough to fight it anymore.”
“You take care of her?”
His jaw twitched. “I did, until a year ago. She decided she was holding me back, so she moved to one of those long-term care places.”
“And you didn’t want her to.”
“I could have done it. She should have let me.”
“Maybe not.”
“What?”
“I’m not saying you couldn’t care for your mother, but look at it from her viewpoint. When you love someone, you want him to be happy. The last thing she’d want is to mess up your life.”
“That’s what Amos says too.”
“And he’s pretty wise. I think it’s great you took care of your mom, but I respect her for what she did.”
Abe thought about that for a few seconds, but it apparently wasn’t something he could agree to. Not yet. Instead, he turned the topic to her. “So what about the girl from the Boondocks?”
She paused for a second. “You want the whole story, as long as we’re just sitting here?”
He met her gaze steadily. “I want to know all about you.”
Good answer! Tori would have patted him on the back, had it been possible.
Carmon sighed, apparently searching for a starting point. “When I came to work at PLK, I had a high school diploma, a lot of anger, and no idea how to dress, act, or talk to men who didn’t refer to me as a ‘Ho.’ Two people helped me a lot since then, Tori and Mr. Pollard.”
Abe glanced toward the black Lincoln, still in the alley, before returning his attention to his companion, who was ready, it appeared, to let him see the real Carmon Calley.
“My grandparents came to Michigan as migrant workers back in the fifties. I was born in one of those prefab houses built for farm laborers. My dad didn’t marry my mother until I was three. When I was ten, we came to Grand Rapids, and shortly afterward, my mother left. She didn’t go far, just moved in with a guy a couple of blocks away, but it might as well have been the moon. My brother was four years old, and he kept asking why Mama needed a new house.”
Carmon stopped for a moment and Abe waited, not daring to interrupt now that she had opened the gates to her past. Tori, too, held her breath, although she recognized the idea was ridiculous. What breath?
“My dad was always angry after that.” She looked away. “Actually, he was angry to begin with, but after Mom left, anything could set him off: the phone ringing after nine o’clock at night, somebody looking at him the wrong way, and just about anything my brother or I did. When I was about fourteen, I told him I’d wait until he was asleep and beat him to death with a cast iron skillet if he ever laid a hand on either of us again.”
She glanced at Abe, who met her gaze squarely and kept his mouth shut.
“After that he left us both alone, pretty much. He’d taken up with a new family anyway: Johnny Walker, Jim Beam, and, if money was tight, the Miller family of fine beers.” Carmon’s face was expressionless, her voice flat, as if to tell it she had to stand aside and simply narrate her pain. “I’m not sure whether emphysema or cirrhosis actually caused his death. No doctor was consulted before the fact, and nobody much cared afterward.”
Abe held the bag of almonds out to Carmon, giving her a momentary distraction. “So you took care of your brother.”
She let out a breath through her nose. “It hasn’t been pretty, but Cory’s a good kid. He gets angry sometimes when I demand all A’s or make him come directly home from school while his friends hang on the street. In general, I think he gets what I’m trying to do for him.”
“What about for yourself?”
She grimaced. “You always hear about kids from bad homes who work really hard in school and get scholarships to college. It’s harder than it sounds. I worked nights in a commercial laundry from the time I was fifteen. Forty, sometimes fifty, hours a week. Because I always looked tired, people at school decided I was a stoner.”
Abe almost said something, but Tori whispered, “Quiet!” He obeyed, letting Carmon go on.
“I made Cory toe the line academically, but between fighting off my groping boss and ignoring my classmates’ snide remarks, it didn’t seem important for me to do the same. I graduated in the middle of my class. Hardly anyone noticed.”
“But you’re smart. Amos says so.”
“Yeah, well, put ‘Smart’ on a resume and see what it gets you.” Carmon’s voice took on a hint of pride as she made the next revelation. “The day after graduation, I applied for a job at PLK. I put on my most modest skirt and a high-necked sweater, even though it was June. I pulled my hair up in what I imagined was the style of a competent secretary and walked in as if I knew what I was doing.” Unconsciously she raised her chin as she spoke, mimicking her attempt to appear sophisticated.
“Jennise would have thrown me out of there, but Mr. Pollard happened to be passing through and heard me ask for an interview.” Her eyes moved to the window. “That was all I wanted. A chance to show I’d work hard.”
“I’ll bet it was tough to ask.”
She nodded, acknowledging what it took to ignore her pride and beg for a job. “So here’s this scary old man, and he says, ‘Why do you want to work here, Miss Calley?’ And I don’t know! I had passed the place hundreds of times on my way to school, and it had always drawn me, somehow. The people inside looked so sure of themselves.”
“I didn’t know what to say, but in the end I told him I wanted to be part of something that operated like a watch, with precision and stability. I had no idea at the time how much he treasures his grandfather’s pocket watch. It must have struck a chord.”
Abe grinned. “Precision and stability? In the stock market?”
She didn’t smile back. “A company that’s well-run, where everyone knows his or her place, appealed to me. I suppose you wouldn’t get it unless you’d lived in chaos all your life. I come from nothing, and I wanted to be part of something that works.”
A family, Tori realized. That’s what Carmon wanted, even if it was an odd kind of family. Tori felt proud she’d been one who accepted Carmon into the PLK family.
“Once I got the job, I watched the others to learn how to behave.” Honesty seemed to press her forward. “I told no one where I lived, what I come from. They don’t know I’m not like them.”
Abe fished the last few almonds from the bag and split them with her. Tori heard his jumbled thoughts, his search for the right words. “People are what they make of themselves, Carmon. My mom’s family considered my dad unsuitable, but those two were in love until the day he died. It wasn’t his background that mattered.”
It pleased Tori to hear him silently ask himself, Is Carmon a woman I could love like that?
Carmon held to her own experience. “It would be nice if the world thought the way you do.”
“Uncle Amos gave you a shot.”
She gave a rueful smile, lightening the mood. “Much to Jennise’s dismay. She let me know every chance she got that I was not the right person for the job.”
“If Amos knew about that, she’d have been fired.”
Carmon shrugged. “Yvonne is nice, and the brokers are okay.”
Men would ignore a lot for a beautiful woman like you. Abe’s thoughts continued on the male track, but he pulled himself back. “So overall, you like your job?”
Carmon traced the steering wheel with a finger. “Mr. Pollard treats me the same way he treats his million-dollar clients, with that stern, unchanging respect. I watch him, how he looks at people, how he speaks—” She chuckled at a memory. “He took me to lunch for my nineteenth birthday. I did exactly as he did, ordered what he ordered and copied how he ate. I learned a lot from him, and I don’t think he’s aware of it, at least not all of it.”
Both Tori and Abe were imagining the Carmon they had never known: fresh out of school and terrified of making a mistake. She’d have been determined to prove that hiring her was a good decision. Her tightly controlled behavior would assure no one got close, no one discovered the insecure girl behind the icy efficiency.
Abe checked the alley to be sure the Lincoln was still there. “Okay, you’ve made your confession. Now I’ll make one. I was attracted to you from my first day at PLK, but two things held me back. First, you didn’t appear interested, which I now understand. Second, my secret reason for being there made everyone a possible suspect.”
&n
bsp; “Except Tori.”
“Right. I went to her with my questions.”
Watching from behind his eyes, Tori felt Abe’s relief at Carmon’s innocence, his understanding of her reticence, and his growing attachment to this woman, so fragile and yet so strong. Happily, she realized her friend was going to be all right without her.
Carmon’s thoughts apparently remained with PLK and its difficulties. “Things have been rough since Mr. Pollard got sick. Loomis is no leader, and Kellerman has no interest in running things.”
