by Libby Klein
“What kind of relationship did Emilio have with Brody? Were they close?”
“Oh, def.” Dani nodded. “Now that was someone who got special attention too. Brody totally made Emilio his special project.”
“Yeah. I kind of got the impression that E idolized Brody, didn’t you?”
Dani nodded. “At least until he was kicked out. Then it all changed.”
Clare looked out the window and shook her head. “It’s a shame E had to go and screw it up.”
“Have either of you girls ever been here at closing time?”
They both said yes.
“Did Brody ever ask you to stay late for anything? To keep working on a project or help him lock up?”
Clare’s phone dinged and she picked it up. She typed while she answered me. “I don’t remember Brody locking up. It’s usually Brenda who closes.”
Dani agreed with her. “Yeah. Brody usually leaves early.”
“Has anyone else ever claimed to have been attacked by Brody?”
Dani was back on her laptop. “Not that I’ve ever heard.”
I could see that I’d lost their attention, so it was time to go. “Thanks, girls. You’ve been a big help.”
“Bye, Poppy.”
“Bring us cookies.”
I was back up at the front with Brenda.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I’m afraid so. I have a couple more stops to make and I have a sort of date tonight.”
“A date, ooooh.”
I grinned. “Hey, I was wondering, before Brody passed, who locked up at night?”
“I did. Why?”
“Did Brody ever stay late to lock up by himself?”
“A couple of times when I couldn’t be here. But it was very rare. He had to leave early to get to a meeting.”
“Do you remember who locked up the night Erika said Brody attacked her?”
Brenda gave me a sad smile. “Brody did. I had called out with a stomach flu. Believe me, if I had been the one to lock up, I would have nipped that story in the bud weeks ago.”
“I was hoping. Also, someone told me you had to go pick Erika up and take her to school one day.”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
“What was that all about?”
“Brody called me one morning from his day job. I was just in here doing some paperwork and getting some bills paid. Erika, bless her heart, skipped school to talk to him. When he was done counseling her, he called me to come take her to school so she wouldn’t be marked absent.”
“Do you know what she went there to talk to him about?”
“Brody never told me. But I know she was having some kind of crisis because her eyes were red from crying and she didn’t speak to me the whole way to school.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you find the girls?” Brenda asked.
“Yes. They gave me a lot of good information. Like, did you know Emilio and Erika had been dating?”
Brenda took a drink from a can of Diet Dr Pepper. “Mm-hmm.” She nodded.
“Was it serious?”
Brenda shrugged. “As serious as two teenagers can be.”
“I spoke to Emilio last night. He thinks the drugs the cops found at Brody’s were the ones Brody confiscated from him.”
“That would explain a lot.”
“Did you ever report Emilio to the authorities?”
Brenda sighed. “No. When Brody found drugs on Emilio he was shattered. He’d been working to rehabilitate him for months. Kids come here from all kinds of backgrounds, some of them have been through the unthinkable. Brody worked with them to stay off drugs, make good life choices, further their education and live the best lives they could live. But at his core, his true passion was to help kids like Emilio who society had already written off. Whether it was to keep them out of prison or to help them restart their lives after incarceration, Brody would bend over backwards to give anyone a second chance.”
“But this would have been Emilio’s third strike.”
Brenda nodded. “If we’d reported him he would have gone to jail. Brody hoped he’d regret it and make amends before we had to. I tried to get him to at least report the vandalism so we could claim it on our insurance policy, but he wouldn’t do it. Brody didn’t always see clearly when it came to helping these kids. He’d give to them at his own hurt. He said Emilio was acting out because he was in pain, and he’d eventually come around. When he did, we would have him work off the damage he’d done.”
“Wait. What vandalism?”
“I thought you knew. Emilio showed up here in the middle of the night after he was expelled. He smashed a bunch of windows and a couple lights with a baseball bat. The security cameras picked up the whole thing. We had to spend some of our award money to replace the windows.” She shook her head sadly. “We could really have used that money in the operating budget. It costs a lot just to turn the lights on here, and we rely on donations and government assistance to pay our overhead. Between the Lynch accusation and the report that drugs were found in Brody’s house, we’re in danger of losing all our funding.”
“Where would you go if that happened?”
“Back to my old job at the detention center, I guess. I took a pay cut to work with Brody because I believe in this place. In the short time we’ve been here we’ve been able to help dozens of kids and bring hope to a lot of families.”
“I wish I could help more,” I said. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
“We have a party coming up. If we haven’t been shut down, we could sure use some cookies.”
I promised her I would provide whatever cookies or cupcakes they wanted when the time came for the party and said my goodbye. But on my way past the bulletin board I noticed a newspaper article. It had been covered up by another flyer that had been removed. “Brenda, what is this about?”
She looked out her cubicle window to where I was pointing. “That’s the story the paper ran when Erika Lynch won first prize in the Cape May Art Show this past summer. Brody was so proud of her he put that up to remind everyone that good things happen when you work hard for them.”
I looked closer at the image of Erika. She was holding a statue that looked like a man. He had his arms folded across his chest, his head was tilted slightly, and he was smiling. “What is this in her hand? Is that the award?”
Brenda came out of her office to look at the paper on the board with me. “No, that’s her entry. Erika’s a sculptor. It’s her tribute to her father.”
“A sculptor? When you said artist, I’d assumed she painted.” I read the caption. “‘One and Only, in ceramic and mixed media.’ Are you sure it’s supposed to be her father?”
Brenda nodded. “If you read the article she says it is.”
I read down the page. “She said, ‘This is my tribute to my one and only, who has always been there for me.’ She didn’t specify it was her father. Besides, you’ve met him. Does this look like Jonathan Lynch to you?”
“Well … art is subjective.”
“Do you have a picture of Brody around?”
“Of course.”
Brenda rushed back to her cubicle and returned with a brochure for the Teen Center. On the back page was a photo of Brody next to some of the Teen Center kids. He was much stockier than the representation in the sculpture, but Erika had captured the contented smile on his face perfectly.
Brenda and I looked each other in the eye and she said, “Wow. I can’t believe I never noticed that before.”
Erika’s tribute to her one and only was for Brody.
This new revelation only served to muddy the waters even more. It seemed that Erika may have idolized her mentor. The title of her tribute to him hints about a more intimate relationship than would be appropriate. Could Brody have taken advantage of Erika’s vulnerability? And if that award-winning statue was made out of cast bronze, maybe I’d been wrong about the murder weapon after all.
Chapter 35
St. Barnabas was just a few blocks away from the Teen Center in the Villas. They should be having Mass in a few hours, and bingo sometime after that. I drove over to see if anyone might be around this time of day who would have worked with Brody. Maybe they could shed some light on his character for me.
The white brick building sat at an angle to Bayshore Road, giving passersby a beautiful view of its large stained-glass window and towering white steeple. A sign on the front lawn said COMMUNION WINE HAPPY HOUR 4 P.M.
There was a list of activities posted in the foyer. I scanned the list for anything pertaining to a twelve-step meeting, but found nothing. Luckily, I was approached by a man I assumed was a priest, judging from his black suit and white collar.
“Can I help you find your way, miss?”
“I was looking for someone who would know about the addiction meetings that are held here.”
“I’m Father Brian, and I can help you with that. Do you need AA, NA, or SA?”
“What is SA?”
“Sexaholics Anonymous.”
“Oh God no! Ah! I’m sorry! I mean I don’t … I’m not … I’m here to find someone who might know someone I might know. But not for sex!”
“Whoa! Okay, settle down.” Father Brian laughed. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat, and you can start from the beginning.”
We entered the large sanctuary full of statues and wooden pews facing the stained-glass apostles. I’d never been in a Catholic church before, so I did some discreet gawking before we sat down.
“It’s a lot bigger on the inside, isn’t it?” Father Brian smiled. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay. A friend of mine attends the NA meetings here. NA is Narcotics Anonymous, isn’t it?”
Father Brian smiled and leaned back in his pew. “Well, it is, but anonymous meetings are anonymous for a reason.”
“The person I’m looking for information about has recently passed away.”
“Oh, of course. You want to know about Brody. He was a dear friend. He will surely be missed.”
“I heard that Brody ran the Narcotics Anonymous meeting here.”
Father Brian nodded. “Brody ran two meetings. The Monday through Saturday meeting at nine p.m., and the Sunday afternoon meeting at five.”
“So, he was here every single day? What happened if he couldn’t make it?”
“Three hundred sixty-five days a year. I stepped in for him a couple times when he couldn’t be here, but that was very rare. He was totally committed to helping others. Besides, the group members were much more open to sharing with Brody, as you can imagine what with him being a former addict himself.”
“Was he ever late to the meeting? Especially in the last couple of months?”
“I don’t remember. We don’t keep tabs on our volunteers quite to that level of severity.”
“I have a friend who came to me looking for help the other night. Brody had been his sponsor. He’s gotten himself into some trouble with drugs again, and he doesn’t know where else to turn.”
“Would your friend happen to be tall and skinny and fond of a hoodie?”
“He might be.”
“Because he was just here last night. I know he fell off for a bit, but he has a new sponsor now. I think he’s doing very well in the program. What are you concerned about?”
“Do priests follow the same rule of confidentiality as doctors?” I asked.
Father Brian cocked his head at an angle. “If you want this to be a confession, I am bound by silence.”
“Okay, well, then I’m confessing that my friend has two strikes against him for drug possession.”
“Okay.”
“And he was caught with drugs by Brody, who confiscated them.”
“Okay.”
“Brody didn’t report my friend, and the cops found the drugs in his home when they investigated his murder.”
Father Brian’s eyes flickered in acknowledgment, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Now my friend wants to clear his mentor’s name, but he can’t go to the police because—”
Father Brian finished my sentence. “He already has two strikes.”
I nodded.
“And your friend wants you to tell the police that the drugs weren’t Brody’s without telling them where they really came from?”
“That’s exactly it.”
“Okay, I think I have an idea that could help. There is an officer who attends Mass here every Saturday. Leave it to me.”
“Really? Thank you.”
“Of course. You can tell your friend that he can come talk to me anytime he wants. I’m no Brody, but I know someone even better.” He looked up.
I smiled at Father Brian. “I will tell him.”
“Now, do you still need to know where the meetings are?” He grinned.
“Do you have a twelve-step program for desserts?”
He patted his stomach. “Not yet, but if we did I would be the first one to sign up.”
*
I was about to get in my car when a cute little VW Bug with Pennsylvania tags pulled in next to me and a familiar friend got out.
“Tracy?”
Tracy’s head jerked at my voice. She twitched and fumbled her purse, spilling the contents on the ground. “Oh hi … uh … Poppy. Sorry, I’m such a klutz.” She scrambled to scrape everything back in her pink bag and compose herself. “How is your aunt doing?”
I bent down to help her. “She has good days and bad days. We’ll all be glad when this is over. What are you doing here?”
“One of my patients invited me to her support group, you know.” She plucked at her scrubs. “Since I’m a nurse. She thought her group would love my perspective. Her grandson goes to a teen center around here somewhere.”
“Really, I’ve been there a few times. Who is her grandson?”
Tracy smoothed her hair back into place. “His name is Emilio.”
“I know him.”
“His gran has told me some about his life. Neither of his parents are in the picture. He’s been in and out of juvie. He’s had it rougher than most.”
“It’s hard to imagine some of the darker things that go on in our little town here, but I think Emilio is on the right track.”
A shadow crossed over Tracy’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be too sure. You have to be very careful with addicts. Many of them are master manipulators. They can make you believe they’ve changed, and the minute your back is turned they’re stealing money from your purse and cold medicine from your bathroom.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it that way. I’ve never had any drug abuse in my family.” Just insanity and mental illness.
Tracy’s eyes narrowed and her tone was sharp and bitter. “Then count yourself very lucky. It sounds like Emilio’s caused his gran a lot of pain. You have no idea what that poor woman has been through. Drug and alcohol abuse can destroy a family. Sometimes the damage is so great there’s no way back.”
“You should call the Teen Center and see if you can give a talk there. I bet it would be well received. Ask for Brenda.”
“I might do that, thanks. I better get inside before they think I’m not coming.”
I tried to offer Tracy Brenda’s contact information, but she jetted through the church door before I could find a pen. I drove home thinking about Emilio. How much do I know about him? He said he was trying to turn his life around, but I only had his word for it. Was it the truth, or was he manipulating me to get me to bail him out with the cops? I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. That’s what Brody would do. I wonder how many times Brody was hurt by someone not quite ready to change. I was starting to see how he achieved hero status.
Chapter 36
I returned home to get ready for my date with Tim at Gia’s coffee shop. How in the world did I ever agree to this?
I’d only had three boyfriends in my lifetime. Billy Ryder when I was in the first grade. He lived across the street from me and I
told him we would have to get married before he could share my Popsicle. He agreed because I had a red, white, and blue Rocket Pop from the ice cream man. I divorced him when he refused to give me a bite of his blueberry frosted Pop-Tart a week later. Then there was Brent Johnson when I was in junior high. He was my boyfriend for a whole month on the bus until Alaina Bourne’s boobs grew two cup sizes almost overnight. Then he was Alaina’s boyfriend on the bus. And Tim Maxwell, my first love and former fiancé. We were together for three years until I got pregnant by someone else. All in all I’d say the best relationship of the three was Billy Ryder. He had a tree house in his yard, and he let me call the shots. I should have hung on to him.
My late husband was never my boyfriend, and our first date happened a year after we were married. That’s a long story. Now here I was with two men interested in me at the same time. I was still waiting for someone to jump out and yell You’ve been punked! Girls like me don’t have two men chasing them at the same time, do they? One man chasing me is like a unicorn spotting.
I ran up the porch steps and flung the door open. “I’m home!” There was a broken flowerpot and a pile of potting soil under the stand in the hall, and the wandering Jew plant had wandered off. Hmph. Who could have seen that coming? I grabbed the broom and dustpan and cleaned up Figaro’s massacre, then hurried upstairs to change for my date.
Georgina met me at the top of steps with her rant of the day. “That little troll spackled my bathroom door shut!”
Down the hall I heard Smitty’s Three Stooges “Whoop whoop whoop.”
I took a deep breath to keep myself from laughing out loud. “Well, you did want him to work on it.”
Georgina stomped her foot. “I wanted him to sand it!”
“You think maybe this is because of the oatmeal?”
“Poppy.” Georgina leaned in and whispered, “I have to … you know.”
“So go downstairs.”
“Someone might hear me.”
“Then use one of the other bathrooms. We have seven.”
Georgina stomped down the hall to the sound of Smitty’s snickering.
