Angel In Blue Jeans
Copyright ©2016 by Richard L. Coles
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without prior written permission.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Promontory Press
www.promontorypress.com
ISBN: 978-1-987857-48-1
Cover Design and Typeset by Edge of Water Designs, edgeofwater.com
Printed in Canada
987654321
DEDICATION
In memory of Ronald Coles, my Father,
who taught me to observe the world—the universe—around me.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Stories grow—characters grow—as one becomes more familiar with them; and they grow, too, as they are shared with others. I sincerely thank those who met this story and its characters in the early stages: thank you to Margaret Ann, to Aidan, to Kate, and to Ben, for your ideas and your comments. Especially, I thank Mary Rosenblum for her insightful critique and recommendations, which have greatly improved the flow and strength of the story and its characters.
I am extremely grateful to Bennett Coles, to Amy O’Hara, to Lauren Olson, to Stephanie Puckett, and to Louise Sundberg, all of Promontory Press, for their professionalism, help, and advice in the preparation and publication of the book. Thanks also go to Marla Thompson of Edge of Water Design for her artistic contribution.
I thank my wife Ann for her love and encouragement; for her patience over a very long time as I sat, maybe in my office, maybe on the other side of the room from her, pecking away with random fingers at a keyboard, endeavouring to tell the story of people I knew only in my mind.
ANGEL IN BLUE JEANS
PART 1
PART 2
ENVOI
PART 1
- 1 -
Dana clutched tightly at Tony’s arm, her left foot slipping on the ice covering the ground, as they picked their way toward Brewster Gardens in the darkness along Millerby Lane from the bus stop on Otterbrook Road. The freezing rain had begun several hours ago throughout the Ottawa region; it was unusually early for Eastern Ontario, only mid-November. The roads were already treacherous.
I’m so glad, Dana thought, that I convinced Tony to leave his car at home. They had taken the bus downtown to the movie. She was still comfortable with using buses, but Tony had become accustomed to the so-called comforts of the car, his beloved old Malibu. Now he, too, agreed it had been the wise thing to do.
They had been an item for about two months now; Dana Munro, at sixteen, and Tony Ferruccio, at seventeen, had lived opposite one another since early childhood, but had only now become a couple.
As they turned into Brewster Gardens, a police car eased round the corner, slipping slightly on the ice. Gingerly, it rolled up the crescent. Dana saw the bright stoplights come on, glaring reflections in the ice coating everything.
“Hey, that’s at my house. Come on.” Tony lunged forward.
Dana followed, treading unsteadily on the ice, her lighter boots not having the grip that Tony’s had.
A large policeman eased out of the car, adjusted his cap, and walked round onto the Ferruccio driveway. A policewoman appeared out of the other door and joined him.
By the time Dana and Tony reached the bottom of the driveway, Dana could see the officers entering the house.
“What the … Jeez, where’s the Malibu?” Tony gasped.
Dana’s heart skipped a beat. The driveway was slippery, but they were quickly at the door, Dana’s pulse pounding. Inside, they caught up with the police, who were being shown into the living room.
The policeman spoke, looking at Mrs Ferruccio, Tony’s mother, Carmella.
“We’re very sorry to disturb you at this time, but we have a serious situation that may involve you.” He looked around, and saw Dana and Tony coming in behind him. “I’m Constable Klein, and this is Constable Hunter,” he continued, indicating his partner.
Carmella looked at her husband nervously.
“Please—sit down.” Pino Ferruccio indicated two chairs. “This is my wife, and this is my oldest boy and his girlfriend.”
Dana smiled nervously, sensing trouble.
“Is there anyone else at home?” asked Constable Hunter.
“My two girls are downstairs—should they come?”
“How old are they?” the policewoman asked.
“Sixteen and eleven.”
“Perhaps the older one should stay there with the young one for the moment.”
Dana hugged Tony more closely; she wondered what was coming.
Constable Klein leaned forward, looking at Pino Ferruccio. “Sir, do you own a blue Malibu?”
“Yes sir, I do, but it’s Tony here who drives. It’s in my name, but he pays for insurance.”
“I see,” said Klein. “Did you use it today?” He looked over at Tony, still standing.
“Sir, I drove it to school and back. That was about four o’clock. I haven’t used it since. But I left it in the driveway. It’s gone.”
Dana snuck her arm around his and pulled closer.
Tony continued, “We just came back. We were coming down the road when you drove by.”
“Yes, I noticed you. I have some disturbing information to relay,” Klein continued. “Your car has been found, overturned, off the road, near Careby Corners.”
Carmella gave a little cry, and Dana tensed again.
“Do you know where the keys are?” Klein asked Tony.
“Yes sir.” Tony put his hand into his pocket and produced a bundle of keys, separating out two.
“Good,” said Klein. “Is there a spare anywhere?”
“No, sir, I’ve been meaning to get one made.”
“I see.” Klein paused and looked over to the policewoman.
Constable Hunter spoke. “We have some rather more serious business to raise. Perhaps the young people would care to leave us?” She looked straight at Dana.
Why me? thought Dana.
“If it concerns the car, I would rather stay,” said Tony firmly.
“I want to stay with Tony.” Dana squeezed his hand, and gave the policewoman an ‘I’m strong and in control’ look. The policewoman nodded.
“Very well,” said Klein. “Please sit down, though.”
Dana sat close to Tony on the couch. She was, however, really worried now.
Klein continued. “The car was badly damaged, and the two occupants had been thrown from the car.” He paused. “Neither survived the accident.”
The silence was intense; it was cutting. Pino cleared his throat.
Klein fingered his lapel. “Neither person carried any identification. They were both teenage boys.”
Carmella gasped. Pino moved to her, placing his arm around her shoulders.
Dana shivered; she could feel her heart pounding as she moved closer in to Tony.
“One of the youths was wearing a jacket with a large six-zero on the back—”
Dana screamed, “That’s Bryce!” She turned into Tony, clutching at him as tears welled in her eyes. She felt his firm hold, and sensed that the policewoman had moved to comfort her on the other side.
Dana could hear Carmella shrieking hysterically. “Poppa, where’s Vincent? Where’s Angelo? What have they done? Poppa, find them!”
Dana pulled away from Tony and looked up.
Pino’s face had become ashen white. “Wh-what was the other boy wearing?” he asked.
Klein, the policeman, looked at Pino and said quietly, “He was wearing a purple and blu
e jack—”
A piercing wail came from Carmella. “My Vince, my poor baby.” Her wail turned to sobbing as she threw herself to the floor, pounding the carpet. Pino, tears streaming down his face, knelt down beside her, trying to console her.
Dana looked up at Tony; he was too shocked to move, his arm still holding Dana as she struggled to find a tissue. She could feel his heart pounding as she leaned against him, the magnitude of what had happened freezing all tears now, all emotion.
Dana watched as the constables looked at each other and grimaced; Klein nodded that Hunter should help Carmella. He moved over toward Tony, and laid his large hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony looked up at him.
Klein whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Tony nodded as Dana reached up to kiss his cheek. She squeezed his hand.
Klein knelt down at Tony’s side. He whispered again, looking at Dana. “Bryce your brother?”
Dana nodded.
“I’m sorry. Where do you live?”
“Across the street.”
“And your name, please?”
“Dana Munro.”
Klein patted them both on the shoulders again and stood up. He motioned to Hunter to join him at the far side of the room.
Dana had dried her eyes, and now turned to embrace Tony. She felt cold and empty. My poor mother, she thought. She’ll be devastated.
Constable Jane Hunter stepped out onto the icy driveway. She enjoyed police work most of the time, but tonight was not one of the enjoyable times. She’d been on the force five years now, and had come across most types of incidents. She’d even been shot at last year. But conveying bad news like this was not easy, not easy at all.
She gingerly crossed the slippery road and walked up to the door, pressing the brightly lit bell-push. Sounds of latches sliding came through the screen door. The inner door opened slightly, then more fully as a light went on and the man saw her uniform.
She opened the screen door. “Mr Munro?”
“Aye?”
“Constable Jane Hunter. May I come in, please?”
Bob Munro hesitatingly indicated that she should enter, and closed the door after her.
“I’m sorry to trouble you at this time, but I have some important information. Is your wife at home?”
Bob Munro nodded. “Please,” he said, indicating the entrance to the living room.
Jane stood at the doorway. It was quite a large room. A fireplace with a glowing gas fire and flanking bookcases occupied the far wall. The television in the corner was on, the sound down low.
Across the centre of the room was a couch, facing the fire, its back to Jane. A woman’s head projected above the couch back.
In the corner to the right was a table with a lamp. A young man was sitting at the table, reading a magazine. He looked up as Jane entered.
“This is ma elder son, Iain. Cal, we have a visitor.”
Caroline Munro turned and stood up.
“This is ma wife, Caroline.” Jane sensed a Scottish brogue.
“Sorry to disturb you all. I’m Constable Jane Hunter. I’m sorry to say I have some serious news to bring to you. Is there anyone else at home?”
“No?” said Caroline, with a questioning look. “Our other two kids are out with their friends. They should be home soon, though. Do sit down, please.”
As she moved to a chair, Jane noticed that heavy drapes covered what she presumed was the window facing the street side. I guess they’re not aware of our car arriving across the street, she thought.
She looked at the three of them, waiting expectantly. She shuddered inwardly, and felt cold in spite of the warmth of the room. “I have to tell you that we have reason to believe that your son has been involved in a serious car accident.” She paused. “He did not survive.”
The words were ice. Everything froze. The silence was eternity. No one moved. Nothing. Then, as if in slow motion, Caroline stood up, her hands clutching her head.
“No-no-no, it can’t be, it can’t. Are you sure? Where? Who was he with? Oh, Bob …” Bob caught her as she fell into his arms.
Iain sat, deathly pale, staring into Jane’s eyes. She moved to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I really am.”
Caroline was sobbing in Bob’s arms. Bob was valiantly trying to suppress tears, as Jane moved to comfort them both.
In a breaking voice, he asked, “D’ye know what happened?”
“Not in detail. The car overturned on failing to negotiate a bend, probably on ice. Both occupants were thrown out of the vehicle, but did not survive.”
“D’ye ken who the ither person was?” The tension was strengthening his Scottish accent.
“Yes, we believe we do,” said Jane quietly.
She let the three of them absorb some of the shock. Iain came round to place his arm on his mother’s shoulder. Caroline responded and pulled him in tighter.
Suddenly, Caroline straightened herself up and sniffed heavily. “I need a tissue.”
Jane looked around. There was a box on the end-table. She reached for it and passed it to Caroline.
“Thanks.” Caroline raised her head. “I’m sorry.”
Jane smiled at her. “I’m sorry to have to bring such news.”
Caroline glanced at the clock on the bookshelves. “Dana will be home any minute. She’ll be devastated.”
Jane adjusted her position. “Mrs Munro, Dana already knows.”
Caroline gasped, and Bob drew back in surprise. “How?”
“The other person in the car was, we understand, Vincent Ferruccio.”
“Oh no! Oh dear, not that poor family too.” Caroline was in tears again.
“But who was driving, whose car was it?”
“The car, a blue Malibu, belongs to Mr Ferruccio, but is usually driven, we’ve been told, by his son Tony.”
“Oh,” gasped Caroline, tensing again. “But where are Tony and Dana? Are they all right?”
“Yes,” continued Jane, reassuringly, “yes, they are safe across the street with the Ferruccios and my partner. They didn’t use the car this evening, and were walking back down the street as my partner and I arrived at the Ferruccio home some minutes ago.”
“But how were Bryce and Vincent in the car?” Bob asked.
“That, sir, we don’t know yet, but we have to try to find out. It seems the car was taken from the driveway by someone without permission. Who and how, we don’t know.”
Caroline was regaining control of herself and the situation. “This is awful. I should be with Dana. How are the Ferruccios? Do you think we should join them at this time? How are they coping?”
Jane could only tackle the last question first. “With great difficulty,” she said. “If you would excuse me, I’ll contact my partner; he’s with them right now.”
Jane called Klein on her cell-phone. “Karl, got a question for you. Mrs Munro is asking whether the Ferruccios would like the Munros to join them at this difficult time, or not.”
“Let me see.”
“Okay, I’ll hold while you ask.” A pause.
“They’ll be welcome.”
“They would? Okay, they’ll be over shortly. Thanks.”
Jane closed her phone. “You’re welcome to join the Ferruccios and your daughter. I’ll leave you now. Come over when you feel ready.”
Bob nodded in acknowledgement.
Jane let herself out of the front door, into the icy cold. The sky had cleared, and the temperature was dropping fast.
She crossed the street and entered the other house. There were more people now. She saw another teenage girl, dark-haired and strikingly pretty in spite of her tear-streaked face. She thought this must be the sixteen-year-old daughter. And there was a young girl, small and thin, on her mother’s lap, her arms round her mother’s neck, face resting on Carmella’s bosom.
The blonde teenage girl, Dana, was crouched at their side, smoothing the young girl’s hair.
Dana rose as Jane entered, and came ov
er to her. “Are they coming?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Jane. “They just wanted a few moments in private.”
“Is my mom okay?”
“She cried, and is very upset, of course, but she says she’s okay now.” Jane smiled at Dana, and grasped her arm in support. She liked this young girl; there was just something about her—a presence, an awareness.
As the Munros entered the Ferruccio home, Dana embraced her mother, who broke into tears. Dana held her tight as her father came to them, putting his arms around them both. Iain joined them.
“Mom, whatever happened, it must have been quick. The policeman said he must have died instantly.” Dana hugged her dad, and pulled Iain close. “We’ve all gotta be strong now,” she said, her voice breaking.
Caroline gave a weak smile, catching Dana’s eyes, and looked about the room. She moved over to Carmella, and they embraced.
As they released their embrace, Carmella spoke, tearfully. “But we don’t know where my Angelo is. He is not home.”
“Oh my God, was he with Bryce and Vince?”
“We don’t know—we just don’t know. This is terrible.”
Dana suddenly felt herself in a heightened state of awareness. Something was tugging at her inside—what, she didn’t understand, but she just felt she was being called to a new role, a new direction. She looked over to the two police constables.
“We’re going to have to do something soon,” the policewoman was saying to her partner. “Until the other son is found, there’ll be no rest here. We also need to arrange for positive IDs. With all of them together here, do you think the two fathers would be prepared to come with us?”
“We’ll ask,” Klein replied. “But we should also call the station to see if they’ve found out anything more from the accident.” He moved over to Pino. “May I use your phone, sir?”
Pino nodded.
Klein was about to pick up the phone when it rang. He answered it. All eyes were on him. “Ferruccio residence?”
Dana could not hear the other side of the conversation. She let Klein’s own words slip by her until …
Angel in Blue Jeans Page 1
